


Automony

by Tkd7064



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-04-30 07:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5154875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tkd7064/pseuds/Tkd7064
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shogo Makishima had been labelled a radical terrorist, anarchist and a psychopath, but also a proponent of freedom and individuality. He would have said he was a man seeking a way to live a common existence in this not so average world. Shogo wanted people to utilize their souls for whatever the outcome and to be there to see it play out and Sibyl just happened to be a hindrance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: Atwood

This story is going to be very dialogue heavy and also literate related due to Makishima and other characters quoting, paraphrasing, and discussing relevant works to their society. If you want action packed sequences I suggest you look elsewhere. I tend to write dialogue heavy anyway, but I'm even more compelled to given Makishima's tendencies in the anime. If you find this boring please push the back button. Also any works mentioned are novels I am familiar with (either reading some in a series or the whole books in other cases) and music, art, etc will also be given some brief references as I deem fit. There will be moderate violent themes, sexual themes, substance addiction, abuse, deviancy of all kinds, etc. This is rated M, if you can't stomach some of the topics please go back. I will not add any more warnings later on.

Also no slash as I don't care to write pairings that aren't canon or that are too far out of left field. I don't care for Kogame/Makishima, Akane/Makishima, Makishima/Choe. To clarify Kogame/Makishima would never happen for obvious reasons, Akane/Makishima is too opposite in mortality to work without taking some important elements from their characterizations, and Choe was obviously heterosexual in a scene with two women early in the series. I try to stay as faithful to the original author's intent as possible and keep the main cast in character. I can understand if other people want to write about the above pairings, but I am just not one of them. If anything Kogame/Akane will be implied if I decide to tackle that topic.

I like exploring the idea of Makishima's sexual side, simply because I can't imagine him having relationships but at the same time I can see him having flings or what have you. I don't mind OC romances as long as they are well done and that's what this is going to attempt. The romance, for lack of a better word, will be very mild and on the back burner. This story will deal more with Sibyl and philosophy and other such topics instead of pure romance. The whole idea behind this story is to examine Sibyl's society and by extension the lives of the characters, especially Makishima who I find very compelling.

All references are listed at the end of each chapter if you want to find out my sources.

* * *

" _If social stability goes pear-shaped, you have a choice between anarchy and dictatorship. Most people will opt for more security, even if they have to give up some personal freedom."_ \- Margaret Atwood

Shogo, leaning absently on one arm, sat reading. One hand flipped the page carelessly, indifferent and lazy, too preoccupied with the beauty of the ideas he found within to notice the course material underneath his palm. Or perhaps he did notice, he thought fleetingly, Shogo was the most alive person he'd ever met in both the physical and the intellectual sense. Choe, sitting opposite him, sipped his coffee, eyeing a pretty brunette a few tables away.

"Why did we come outside today if you're just going to read?" Choe asked, signaling the waitress over to refill his cup. He gave her a smile and she smiled back, asking if he needed anything else. "You?" He mouthed soundlessly with a flirtatiously nod and sweeping glance over her figure. She gave that same polite smile back and left the table.

"Not to get you a date, Choe," Shogo said, not making eye contact with him as he spoke.

"Maybe we should get you a date. I bet I could find your type here."

"At a cafe in the middle of the business district? I find that doubtful."

"Here I thought you'd make a comment about not having a type."

"I wouldn't say I'm entirely without a type. I can't stand the kind you pursue for example."

Shogo picked up the teacake, dunking it quickly in his steaming drink and taking a bite. He smiled, but whether he was pleased with the reference to a book or the food itself Choe couldn't distinguish.

"What book are you reading now?" The book lay flat against the tabletop. He picked it up, revealing the title _The Last Vampire_ and a blue eyed women on the cover.

"Looks boring."

"I suppose some would say so. It's not my usual type. I got the series from a forum."

"Send me a link?"

"Sure. Sometimes when I'm looking for a new title I scroll the internet and this time I came upon a forum of individuals who were discussing the merits in this series."

"And you decided to read it based on that?" Choe was very selective with what he bothered reading and found it hard to understand Shogo's enthusiasm for most reading materials.

"You make it sound so insipid."

"I don't read much."

"That's a pity really," he smiled and Choe had the distinct feeling he was being mocked. "What about in school? Did you read nothing? No Catcher in The Rye, Lord of the Flies, Of Mice and Men, or Shakespeare?"

"I've read Hamlet, but got bored during the slings and arrows parts and never finished."

"Tsk, tsk, Hamlet's contemplation is not a boring subject for someone who has actually contemplated death seriously."

"Well..." As much as Shogo could move those around him there were times Choe wanted to throttle him.

"Have you never pondered the fragility of death? How easily your own life could be snuffed out or how easily you could end someone's existence? That waitress you were flirting with," Shogo's smile widened, revealing teeth as pearly white as his hair, "how effortless it would be to accost her after she ends her shift. It sounds so simple. Can't you imagine it?"

"Sure," he answered automatically. He could imagine it. In fact he caught a glimpse of her skirt as she whizzed by to another table and the bob of her pony tail. He could just imagine her pretty mouth as she shrieked, as he pushed her against the wall behind the dumpster and restrained her. Hell Shogo would probably find it amusing and help him if she struggled.

He sighed, turning his gaze onto the man before him and away from the lucid thoughts. "I only met you a few weeks ago Makishima and it frightens me how well you know me."

"Don't be afraid," his sly smile never faltered. "I'm only the voice in your head, the one you hear but don't heed. I'm your desires freed of inhibitions."

"But restraint is a good thing."

"Who says?"

He lowered his eyelashes, his frown deepening a second. "The world," he supplied.

"What is the world but a collective of individuals, individuals who themselves make up morality on abstract loosely chosen lines. If the world is made of separate identities why then is not every act within human law? If you think it's the correct action who has the right to judge your choice wrong?"

"Sibyl," was his intimidate response. He smiled, gleeful that his answer was the correct one and that he'd gotten a victory in this word battle. Or rather that was the answer a normal person in their society would have given.

Shogo gave him a long silent stare and Choe felt from that gaze not the curious observer of their past conversations but that of a ruthless over analyzer who rejected his answer and was mentally tearing his pretensions up. In speech he said nothing and after a long awkward moment for Choe at least, dipped his teacake again and finished it off.

"What are we here for?"

"I set up a bomb in the building behind you. I merely wanted to be here to watch the spectacle."

"Why'd you do that?" He asked, craning his neck back and glancing at the said building. It was a bookstore with a blue sign reading "Pauper's Books."

"That's the last thing I'd assume you'd blow up."

"Aside from the fact most bookstores are sanctioned by Sibyl and most good reads are black market attainable only, it's a front for some unsavory anarchists."

"I thought you were an anarchist?" Choe drank from his cup, watching the flicker of amusement in Shogo's eyes. "And since when do you find unsavory actions horrendous?"

"I'm not an anarchist in any sense of the word," he replied briskly, sounding almost irked at the notion. "Kouzaburo made just that sort of assumption recently. I paraphrased the Marquis de Sade to him. Law which inhibit the passions are dangerous he wrote and went further to imply that comparing anarchy and the legal centuries we've had that when the laws do not address an issue the greatest actions occur."

"And that last part is bad why?"

"You misunderstand me entirely if you think all I care about is chaos and that I condone criminal acts without discrimination. I condemn censorship of any kind and the limiting of the rights of the individual that certain societies have imposed on their citizens in the name of security. However anarchists are delusional in their belief of a human society relieved of authority. When most anarchist fail to create a society free of the totalitarian regime they just bought down they often resort to creating another and putting a fresh label upon it. As Che Guevara said, "Cruel leaders are replaced only to have new leaders turn cruel." Anarchy by definition is Utopian and though I'm not opposed to the idea itself it is often used as a veneer for totalitarian regimes."

"Sounds like Sibyl to me."

"Precisely. I may desire to eradicate Sibyl and I may die in the process, but I won't have some anarchist or dictator crawling up from his hole to takeover and revert us back under a new guise."

"How do you intend to stop someone from doing just that?"

"By renewing the people's will to fight. Have you ever heard of the philosopher Karl Popper or even John Rawls? Rawls in his _A Theory of Justice_ states that a just society must tolerant intolerance or else become intolerant itself. Of course Rawls does say that for the sake of security and the preservation of liberty that freedom to certain sects must be limited. What do you think of this?"

"I hate bigotry. Living as a foreigner here I've seen enough of it to last a lifetime. They may hide it behind enigmatic euphemisms that they think I don't get and their hues may read healthy, but it's a bunch of shit. If given the opportunity they'd oust me and everyone else out to keep their false security blanket and I wouldn't doubt Sibyl would allow it if it meant keeping the fools clear simply because they are the majority of the citizens."

"If the only way to safeguard society was by allowing bigotry...you would oppose such a society?"

"Society isn't free no matter how you spin it. Every civilization since the dawn of man has imposed on man's freedom, but I'd say a society that goes that far is too much. Certain things, like racism, should be opposed."

"Sibyl thinks the same way as you, Choe."

"How is that?"

"To preserve the facade of security Sibyl is more than willing to denounce those elements, namely latent criminals, and to use whatever force is necessary, all in the sake of protecting the notion of a tolerant society on the surface."

"That's..."

"Different to what you think?" Shogo looked at him so intensely he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He stared at his coffee cup, realizing only then that it had been emptied for some time. "Tolerance is a pretty idea in a prefect world, but we are humans and being human means we always abhor something. That being the case we always desire to extinguish something, even when others value it. It's the man who carelessly throws his child's treasured toy away."

"But certain morals—."

"What are morals? The ideologies of a select group of individuals who think an action is correct and impose their will on others in the hope it's the best course for society. They disregard the freedom of others in the belief of creating a world they deem ideal."

"Sibyl," he said softly, lifting his cup for the waitress to refill. This time he didn't even glance at her or her ass as she walked away. "Shogo?"

"Hm?" He drank from the steaming hot tea, no doubt relishing in his odd way the scorched tongue he received.

"If we accept a society where we tolerate even the most intolerable of actions like murder...what becomes of us?"

"Anarchy?" He laughed, his tone disingenuous. "What do you think happens, Choe? Ah, but save your answer for when you've had more time to contemplate it. Savor the ability to think such complex ideas, like the way we savor sweets."

The bomb went off, setting the backdrop ablaze behind him. Due to their closeness to the scene his ears started ringing. He winced, pressing a hand to his ear. People were screaming, running from the building. Some people who escaped collapsed on the ground as smoke swirled to the sky. The bystanders, too stunned at the unfathomable sight, were staring blankly, taking pictures or pointing.

"Shogo?" His eyes gleamed amber as the fire rose and smoke and debris and cries filled the air. He was watching with a frown. Choe, knowing Shogo to enjoy the raw violate evil of humanity, was surprised, but then Shogo would say violence didn't necessarily mean evil either and it was all in the eye of the beholder.

"Yes?"

"I find you hypocritical in your condemning of some acts of violence against Sibyl."

"Humanity is a double edged sword. Good and evil, if we use such definitive terms, resides in everyone and why should we then ridicule those who are contradictory? Do we ridicule that trait so much because we dislike seeing such uncertainty in others or are we afraid of our own duality and thus wish not to see the obvious show of our mortal struggle?"

"Anarchists could be useful to help achieving Sibyl's downfall. Is it not better that we utilize them and dispose of them before they become a problem?"

"Commonly in the past such methods seldom went in favor of the user of those kinds of movements. Leon Tolstoy, himself, was overtaken by Stalin and his supporters. The only way society can rebel is through individuals since that is what constitutes a society in the first place. Individuals give power to a few they elect or who take it by force through their initial consent. Anarchists wish to usurper the authority they find repressive, but if given the ability would they dismantle all forms of government? A society liberated of leaders is directionless. The anarchist who wishes for an idealistic moral society of egalitarianism governed not by a plutocracy but by individuals...well humans struggle with morality, have different thoughts on ideals, and don't always believe in egalitarian ways. There are just too many people with differences to be able to control them all comprehensively. The anarchist revolutionary must then accept reality for what it is rather than what they wish it to be and thus become a leader of the ideas they espouse or risk losing the battle to those with stronger convictions."

"What would you call yourself if not an anarchist?"

"Oh I have some things in common with an anarchist, I just lack the belief in a state free society being possible in our world. If I must call myself something," his smile widened, reaching his ears. His eyes closed as he replied, "An anti-static individualist is fairly spot on."

"What's that?"

"The anti-static part refers to my opposition of governments like Sibyl that intervene too heavily into the personal and social affairs of its population. The individualist part is self-explanatory I hope."

"So you hate the Sibyl system and dislike anarchy?"

"There is quite a difference between the two." Shogo drank from his tea, smiling that fiendish way of his that made Choe slightly uncomfortable. "I want to bring down the Sibyl system because of its tyrannical reign, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't desire another form of government to succeed it as naturally would be the case."

"What form of government would you propose?" He knew very little about the governmental system before Sibyl. It was relatively hard to find information about it but knowing Shogo he'd gotten black market books on the matter.

"Monarchy is foolish, it leads too easily to totalitarian absolutism. Certainly a ruler could be attained who will do so moderately but then an heir could undermine that. Communism is repellent for its disregard of the individual for the sake of the whole. I am not against socialism to an extent, but it is too easy to corrupt. Directorships suffer the same risks as Monarchy and need no more explanation. A Democratic Republic can be too easily lead by the majority and the minority oppressed and rights stripped."

"So you don't recommend any form of government?"

"Not quite," he paused momentarily to wipe a crumb off the surface.

The police had arrived and were questioning witnesses and checking hues. Shogo showed no alarm at their presence, calmly watching the winding down of the disorder. Drones lined the parameter, the red of the alarms illuminating the white of Shogo's eyes.

The waitress set the bill on the table. For the last few minutes they hadn't eaten or touched their cups. A few people lingered in the area but most had moved on. The waitress was chirping to the cashier, standing close to the window and snapping occasional pictures of the accident.

"I would tolerate any form of government were the circumstances right. Have you ever read Thoreau's _Civil Disobedience_? He wrote "that government is best which governs least." There is more to his quote of course, but it is anarchist related. I suppose a more encompassing term for my philosophical leanings would be to say that I am an Autarchist." He laughed, "What are you, Choe?"

"I guess I'd confess to hating totalitarian government," he answered, deliberating over his response. "I'm not sure what I'd call myself. I just hate Sibyl and the Inspectors and Enforcers, they are worthless pigs who treat innocent people like crap and don't even get me started on the mistreatment by the wealthy bastards of this country."

"An anti-establishment objector?" Shogo smirked, "that's not hard to guess. Tell me about your political leaning or am I to assume you don't care for politics?"

"I don't know." It was odd admitting to this. For most of the people under Sibyl's thump talking about politics was not an issue. Sibyl administered everything and for the most part people were happy with that arrangement.

"It is easier to pinpoint problems with individuals who commit acts you disagree with then focusing on the bigger picture," Shogo supplied when he said nothing further. "It could also simply be that you aren't knowledgeable enough on politics to label yourself anything. It's understandable in our society. Sibyl has limited our sources for information to a few innocuous areas and politics, especially those that favor rebellion or systems that oppose Sibyl's, are kept hidden. Have you read Orwell? Thought police," he looked over at the Public Safety Bureau's officials as they worked, "is a term you should familiarize yourself with. I'll borrow you my copy of _1984_ if you'd like to read it."

"That sounds good," he felt somewhat embarrassed at his lack of knowledge in comparison to Shogo and being around Makishima always made him want to best his ignorance. "You think you got those anarchist?"

"I'll be pleased either way. The anarchists have likely fled or been killed, both of which suit my needs. People vary based on their beliefs, but I've found most people can be categorized into two types of individuals. Those who act and those who don't. Anarchist often bewail government but do little and though some of them kill a president here and there it doesn't change a thing. I dislike those who don't act almost as much as I hate the boredom imposed by Sibyl. To quote Che Guevara again, "The revolution is not an apple that falls when it is ripe. You have to make it fall."

"That's what this is about?" Choe nodded to the bombing.

"The beginning of the descent?" He smiled widely, running long fingers through his hair. "I've spent a long time preparing, Choe, it's time I finally act."

A beep went off and Shogo reached into his pocket, pulling his cell phone out. Almost every item of Shogo's was either vibrantly bright or drab, he found with the man there was no middle ground. The phone was a light shade of gray and a stark contrast to the eye popping red of his sweater. He hit a button on the screen. His eyes intently scanning the message.

Choe sighed, leaning on his elbow. The waitress winked at him from the counter. He smiled, thinking once more that she had nice breasts.

"Who is it from?"

"Someone on that forum I mentioned earlier. I made a remark and they replied to it."

"What did you say?"

"I used a quote, "Sometimes, if I am not careful, and I stare too long at a flower, it shrivels and dies." The person replied with Elisabeth Kubler-Ross." Shogo raised his eyes long enough to look at Choe. "I'm assuming you don't know who that was. She was an influential woman who wrote a book about death and grief."

"What did they quote?"

"It is not the end of the physical body that should worry us. Rather, our concern must be to live while we're alive, to release our inner selves from the spiritual death that comes with living behind a facade designed to conform to external definitions of who and what we are."

"What are you going to say in reply?"

"A Proust quote," his fingers typed quickly.

Choe stood and went over to the counter. He smiled at the girl, "Having a good day?"

"Better than some," she said, looking anxiously at the scene. "Aren't you and your friend freaking out about it? People died."

"People die every day. I'm not gonna let it ruin my mood."

"I wish I could think that way," she smiled cheerfully and Choe got the distinct feeling she already did. The fake concern over people she didn't know or care about sickened Choe just a little. She was probably just grateful it hadn't happened to her.

"Got any plans for later tonight?"

"Going clubbing with some friends. Want to exchange numbers and come with later?"

"I'd love too," he smiled, taking his cell out and putting her number into his phone. He leaned behind Shogo, "Ready to go?"

"One second," he hit send. "Done, are we?" He ignored the implication in Shogo's eyes and nodded.

"What did you say back?"

"People do not die for us immediately, but remain bathed in a sort of aura of life which bears no relation to true immortality but through which they continue to occupy our thoughts in the same way as when they were alive. It is as though they were traveling abroad."

"And this has to do with a flower right?"

"You are very easy to confuse at times," he said, pushing his chair back in and stepping into the crowd as if he'd never left it. "I guess since you haven't seen the whole conversation it's hard to relate to it. I'll send you a link."

"What now?"

"I was considering stopping by Arno's." Choe had never been there but had heard Makishima praise the bookstore for it's stock of black market gems. The building was in Level 2, one of the most violent and unregulated parts of Tokyo. Houses with broken windows, shattered pavement, graffiti on every bare wall...it was truly a sight and would have awed a regular citizen from one of the more prosperous areas. The only people who occupied this place were usually people born here, raised among prostitute mothers, druggies and boozers and to die in that same filth, never having experienced more.

The bookstore, if it could be properly called that, housed antiques and collectibles as well as the mediocre books approved of by Sibyl. Shogo lingered only a few seconds at the other merchandise, bypassed all the shelves of books and immediately proceeding into the backroom. Inside was a long narrow hallway and this lead into a whole other world.

The front of the shop had been taken care of, but reeking of decay and depreciated. The area they entered was anything but, the walls were newly painted apricot, the curtains lush violet, the tables polished oak, and the bookshelves glistening cherry wood. It was exactly the kind of place he could imagine Makishima reading novels endlessly in hot summer days by the windows or sitting cozy by the fireplace.

"Well..." Choe said, taking in the sight with relish. "They have any Gibson?"

"I saw Necromancer last time I was here and I'm sure Arno has others." They traveled pass shelf after shelf and into the next room. A long desk, like what would be found in libraries of old, with a cash register and computer took up the whole wall. An aged Frenchman, bald save for little scraps of white behind his ears, peeked up at them from behind a novel.

"What are you reading today?" Shogo asked jovially, eyeing the flowery cover and blue binding.

" _The Man Behind the Book_ by Henry Van Dyke _._ The Scribner's edition," he answered the inquiry monotonously, as if he'd become accustomed to stating titles automatically.

"Ah, I've never had the pleasure," to Choe the idea Shogo hadn't devoured every book in existence seemed out of the question. "Reserve it for me when you finish?"

"Of course."

"Did you get anything noteworthy from the last haul?" Shogo was referring to the smuggling in of books from abroad. Given Sibyl's banning of most books the only way to get your hands on a copy was by this method. Most Japanese titles had been eradicated, only a handfuls of manga and books remained intact. Most bookstores were only allowed trivial titles, mostly picture books, coloring books, a few irreverent romances and YA novels and the most uninspiring muck.

"I did get a Ōe Kenzaburō novel actually," Arno replied with a wistful smile. "I remember as a young man reading _The Silent Cry_ right after I came to Japan, a splendid read and I wish I'd kept the book at the time. I unfortunately lost it when I moved from Hokkaido."

"Which novel?" Makishima was an avid fan of Kenzaburō and relished any of his works.

"His first novel _Nip the Buds, Sho_ o _t the Kids,"_ the book, sitting next to the old man on the table, was a beautiful soft cover of black, yellow and red. Shogo's smile dissolved quickly at his next words. "It's not for sale."

"Then why mention it?" Choe asked in annoyance.

"To amuse myself at your irritation."

"Why is it not for sale?"

"Someone already purchased it."

"I'll outbid them. Twice the asking price?"

"Sorry," Arno said tersely, becoming fed up with the game, "I do first come, first serve here and if I renege I would lose the respect of my valuable clients. You understand Mr. Shibata? The next Kenzaburō book is for you if that's what you want?"

"When will you get the next one," Shogo replied caustically, "since few of his works were translated outside Japan."

"Eventually," he lifted his book up again and ignored the vexation on Makishima's face.

They walked further in, passing neat alphabetical shelves. Shogo stopped near the furthermost wall, staring out a white framed window. The view was nothing spectacular, a red brick wall that was clearly showing it's age.

"We could steal it," he offered, assuming that's what was occupying his mind.

"No. Arno is too valuable to me. He has a few connections outside Japan and gets a regular influx of novels of worth. The other places like this aren't nearly as viable and usually when I can get something it's marked up, torn, or faded beyond repair." Shogo was still frowning, his eye color hard to make out in the dim light. "Besides that's not what I'm concerned about. Two things of that conversation stuck me as odd. Did you take note?"

"I'm afraid it went over my head," Choe said, trying to remember something weird about it.

"The first of consequence is that someone purchased the book before me. Now I've never had a problem getting an Ōe Kenzaburō novel before, usually it sits here until I show up and find it. It means someone with the same interest has just started coming here. Second is that Arno will usually hand over any book to me, especially if I up the price, he's too hard up for money not to bother. This place may seem paradisaical and Arno well-off given his dress, but the old man pays a fortune to get the books smuggled in and for the upkeep here."

"Why would he refuse then?"

"I'm assuming it's either an acquaintance of his or someone with a big pocketbook."

"That makes sense. So what to do with that information?"

"Easy. We wait to see who comes to retrieve that book."

"Seriously?" He smirked after an idea struck him, "let's set up cameras and I'll give you a heads up when the person gets here."

"Ah, Choe, such a technological genius!"

* * *

Quotations/Paraphrases:

" _If social stability goes pear-shaped, you have a choice between anarchy and dictatorship. Most people will opt for more security, even if they have to give up some personal freedom."_ _-_ Margaret Atwood, In an _Interview on SciFi, Religion, and her love of "Blade Runner."_

" _Law which inhibit the passions are dangerous and comparing anarchy and the legal centuries we've had that when the laws do not address an issue the greatest actions occur."_ _-_ Paraphrase of the Marquis de Sade

" _Cruel leaders are replaced only to have new leaders turn cruel."_ _-_ Che Guevara, _A_ _n_ _American Savage_ by Jeff Flashinski

" _A_ _just_ _society must tolerant intolerance or else become intolerant itself and for the sake of security and the preservation of liberty that freedom to certain sects must be limited."_ _-_ A paraphrase of John Rawls, _A Theory of Justice_

" _The revolution is not an apple that falls when it is ripe. You have to make it fall."_ _-_ Che Guevara, _Che Guevara speaks: Selected Speeches and Writings_

" _Sometimes, if I am not careful, and I stare too long at a flower, it shrivels and dies."_ _-_ Christoper Pike, _The Last Vampire_

" _It is not the end of the physical body that should worry us. Rather, our concern must be to live while we're alive, to release our inner selves from the spiritual death that comes with living behind a facade designed to conform to external definitions of who and what we are."_ _-_ Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, _On Death and Dying_

References:

_The Last Vampire_ by Christoper Pike

_Catcher in The Rye_ by J.D Salinger

_Lord of the Flies_ by William Golding

_Of Mice and Men_ by John Steinbeck

_Hamlet_ by Shakespeare

Karl Popper, no specific work mentioned

_Civil Disobedience_ by Henry Thoreau

_1984_ by George Orwell

_The Man Behind the Book_ by Henry Van Dyke

_The Silent Cry_ by Ōe Kenzaburō

_Nip the Buds, Shoot the Kids_ by Ōe Kenzaburō

* * *

I found Kogame and Joji Saiga's speculation that Makishima "wasn't quite" an anarchist to be appropriate. The man never struck me as derisive of government, just the kind of freedom limiting totalitarianism in Psycho Pass.


	2. Chapter 2: Britten

" _It is cruel, you know, that music should be so beautiful. It has the beauty of loneliness of pain: of strength and freedom. The beauty of disappointment and never-satisfied love. The cruel beauty of nature and everlasting beauty of monotony."_ \- Benjamin Britten

A week passed before the person reserving the book arrived. She, surprisingly a female, was a petite woman. She had the kind of outfit you'd see on fashionable young women walking down the streets of Tokyo. It almost verged on Lolita, a whimsical purity inherent in the powder blue dress, but for the business causal belt, watch, and the boots.

"She looks innocent enough," Choe said dismissively.

"Don't forget that looks can be deceiving." His tone was reprimanding but his face was indifferent speculation. "What was your impression of me when we first met?"

He pondered this thoughtfully. He could hardly conjure up the image of Makishima without entwining him with his ideals, but he fuzzily remembered that day. It had after all only been a mere two months ago. He could only vaguely recall the atmosphere of the setting, the weather of the day, or his own mood, but he distinctly remembered Makishima. He thought it had been a sunny day and given it had been August wouldn't be surprising.

The setting had been a quaint hole-in-the-wall cybercafe usually used by computer hackers or virtual reality fanatics. Makishima's reason for coming in that day he couldn't remember, but he did remember seeing Shogo's watchful gaze as he swept the room over briefly before sitting. That had been weird because in their age being cautious wasn't necessary. Why or how they struck up a dialogue he had no answer for, Makishima had just seen him at his table and approached like a snake slithering up to its next meal. Makishima had seated himself without being asked, but with a manner that said he didn't need to ask.

His clothes he remembered well. A gray button up shirt with no jacket or tie to make it formal. His pants had been blue jeans and his shoes red converse. Looking at Makishima today declared that the man had no trend when deciding what to wear. He was wearing a thin green t-shirt overlapped with a white hooded sweatshirt, khaki pants and tan shoes. The only logic or rhyme was that the guy wore lots of white, but he also frequently accented it with a vibrant color.

"You gave the impression of an artist or poet, caring about what you wear only if it bucks the trend."

"You're entirely wrong. I happen to own many brand names. I also wear well known cologne." Shogo bestowed on him a cursory glance before resuming his stare down of the girl in the video. "I wear clothing for three reasons. Guess what they are and I'll give you a hint, one reason is compulsory."

"Well the first must be to protect against the elements and not to be shunned by society."

"Your answer was mostly satisfactory. Can you at least guess at the other two?"

"To attract the opposite sex?"

"Correct if I were the average male which I'm not. I don't need some chauvinist manner of dressing to assert my dominance over other rivals and as a showy plumage so to speak. Try again."

He stared at what the woman was wearing, trying to figure out if the answer was buried in the folds of smooth cotton. The boots, belt, and watch were mismatched accessories. "I don't know."

"Have you ever noticed I wear baggy clothes typically? Why would I do that? Consider the chameleon who hides in plain sight. I give the suggestion of a spineless artist, an intellectual without any brawn by hiding my muscles and abilities and accentuating my deficits."

"That makes sense."

"Now the third is to protect against enemies. Just as the porcupine has hard quills to protect the soft fresh so too does that girl wear those boots in place of flip flops or more fashionable byproduct. If you have to kick someone the impact from say a steel toe shoe is preferable than a bare foot."

"You really think she thought that through?" Choe couldn't reconcile the superfluous woman with Makishima's prepared depiction.

"It is possible. I'd rather overestimate my enemy than the opposite."

"Should I do a search of the cymatic scans and see when she comes up?"

"No need."

"I thought you wanted to find her?"

"I already know her. She works at Oso Academy."

"Oh?" Choe laughed at the astonishing and outrageous number of latent criminals who worked there.

"It really shouldn't come as a surprise. Oso Academy is a small beacon of liberty as long as you know how to utilize it. They hardly run cymatic scans more than twice a month there due to the demanding insistence of the affiliates. It is the last battalion of conservatism and how many radical souls are attracted to its atmosphere rather than its ideology isn't a stretch given its technological impediment."

"What's her name?"

"That I can't say. I've only ever seen her around. I'll look into it."

"Okay," Choe couldn't understand why Makishima was so adamant, but he supposed if their roles had been reserved and it had been a hard to crack program he would have been fantasied himself.

* * *

"Kouzaburo," Makishima stopped himself outside his classroom as Toma's class ended. The girls were walking out, chirping to themselves as they passed by, some of them blushing and pointing excitedly at the handsome teachers.

"Mr. Shibata," Toma spoke reservedly, adjusting his red tie gracelessly.

"I want you to introduce me to someone."

"Me?" Toma looked bewildered and Makishima could guess why. The man was a social outcast, keeping distance between himself and others, whether it be staff or student.

"Yes. I imagine you at least know her name. I need some information before I approach her."

"Okay." They found her at the staff lounge. She dressed much differently in the professional environment. Today her dark hair was braided and wrapped into a bun, only the blue barrettes fastening her bangs back added any character to the lifeless hairdo. Her outfit was a gray overcoat, white blouse, pencil skirt, and a blue brooch. She definitely fit the part of a regular scholastic.

"Her name is Elaine Shizuka," he could hear displeasure in Toma's voice, though the reasoning wasn't apparent. "She teaches literature class. She's generally very impersonal about things."

"I take it you don't think well of her."

"We have an unfortunate history. Let's just say she doesn't think well of me rather," he nodded toward the refrigerator. "I'm getting something to eat."

"Miss. Shizuka?" He asked softly, in a meek tone of inquiry. She raised one delicate eyebrow at him, but her hands didn't cease cutting up her dinner. She spooned some rice into her mouth as Makishima sat down across from her.

"I'm Yukimori Shibata," he said without pause, "I'm the art teacher."

"And that's relevant to me how?"

"Arno's bookstore." Her hand twirled the spoon once and her eyes lifted, locking with his. In them he saw a flicker of amused defiance. That was a rare welcoming sight in the common herd of this society and it pleased and piqued his interest.

"Ah," she smiled, "come to tell me you're reporting me for illegal activities? No need to address me directly. My Psycho-Pass should rise on its own and get me caught regardless, yes?"

"That's not what I'm here for," he smirked, leaning causally on his elbow. "I was wondering if you possessed a Ōe Kenzaburō book."

Her mildly curious look dissolved into a cautious frown. "What do you want with that book?"

"I'm a fan myself and collect many of his works. Would you permit me to make an offer on it? Three times the price you paid for at Arno's?"

"You want it that badly? You do know Arno's charges an arm and a leg already..." She paused, eyeing him with uncertainty. "A teacher making that kind of money, um?"

"I inherited a good sum from my father."

"I'm not willing to sell it," she drank her tea, ignoring him momentarily to eat.

"I'm sure I can tempt you, Miss Shizuka. Six times as much?"

Her eyes widened exponentially and her hands rested on the tabletop. Makishima watched the deliberation pass over her features but then she shook her head and rose. She dumped her tray and he watched her walk out. Toma, sitting a table behind them, smiled mercilessly from his seat.

"What time is her last class at?" He demanded pertinaciously.

"I believe five thirty?"

"I'll try again."

"Persistent," Toma laughed.

* * *

"Miss. Shizuka?"

"Mr. Shibata," she was sitting at her desk, arranging some papers. The desk was bare save for a few Shakespearean works like Twelfth Night and a cluster of assignments. There were no family portraits or personal artifacts.

"I'll offer twelve times the going rate."

"I'm not selling it. Do you understand that some things are precious not because there are only a few copies but because of the intellectual sentiments behind the work? There could be a million copies of Kenzaburō's work and I'd still view mine as valuable."

"I understand that completely. Some things shouldn't be replaceable," he was pleased and strangely moved. There may have been some ideology difference between himself and her, but he could most certainly understand this aspect and value it immensely.

"So..."

"I'll go. Just tell me that you will read it thoroughly and enjoy it?"

"Of course," she stood then and Makishima turned to go, "however I could borrow you the book once I'm done." He turned back towards her, surprised that she would offer. "I mean we both work at Oso Academy so there isn't any reason to speculate that you won't be able to return it and you actually do seem to like Kenzaburō. I initially just thought you were trying to flirt with me so I didn't take you seriously."

"Flirt with you," well, he'd never been accursed of that before.

"You'll forgive the assumption, but most men are..." She waved her hand diffidently.

"You're forgiven."

"Let's get off on a better footing and forget about earlier."

"I'd like that," he smiled at the efficacious outcome of acquiring the Kenzaburō book and that was all that mattered.

* * *

"Do you like being called Yuki?" Elaine Shizuka asked him as she sat down across from him. He was sitting in the cafeteria, Toma beside him.

"No."

"A shame," this was their third meeting and the woman was proving to be a strange creature. "Yuki is almost cute but cute doesn't suit your serious disposition." Her gaze turned to the brunette at the table. "Toma Kouzaburo...still alive I see."

"Lucky me," he looked anxious now.

"Oh, don't be such a dour pessimist, Toma. You remind me of Georges Sorel's work."

"Georges Sorel?" Makishima said. "Are we going to quote his _Reflections on Violence?_ "

"Why not?" She looked jubilantly at Toma as she spoke, "The pessimist regards social conditions as forming a system bound together by an iron law which cannot be evaded, so that the system is given, as it were, in one block, and cannot disappear except in a catastrophe which involves the whole."

"Sibyl," Toma muttered darkly. "How do we bring something down that is so ingrained in our culture?"

"Easy. Santayana wrote about Nietzsche's work and compared it to Arthur Schopenhauer's writings. He said Schopenhauer's, "the will to live would become the will to dominate, pessimism would become optimism founded on courage, and most importantly that Schopenhauer's pity and asceticism would become Nietzsche's asserting of the will at all cost and being cruelly but beautifully strong."

"You are very well read, Mr. Shibata, for an art teacher. I'm rather surprised you aren't teaching literature instead."

"Miss. Shizuka, I've a fondness for any art which makes use of my critical thinking abilities. I can watch television, play video games, enjoy music, really anything with a profound message on humanity."

"You almost remind me of the antagonist of an Arthur Conan Doyle series."

"Sherlock Holmes. It was the first book I ever read."

"Sherlock Holmes? Isn't that a thriller about a detective?"

"My," she looked at Toma as if beseeching him to leave when he showed signs of incomprehension. Toma claimed he needed to use the restroom and when he didn't return they weren't surprised. "Kouzaburo is a strange bedfellow, Mr. Shibata."

"How so?" He drank his tea, anticipating each word that would drop from her lips almost as much as he savored his drink. It was so rare to meet anyone of literary knowledge but less someone who digested novels and could also rebuke them.

"He reminds me of a character from an Ayn Rand novel. Peter Keatings was his name, if I remember right, its been a while since I read it. He was regarded as very mediocre compared to the other characters. A man who took up architecture rather than the painting he loved and who later took it up to no avail, starting too late in life."

"You think Toma's an unnecessary piece of the human race?"

"No," she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose pensively. "All humans have a place in society and Toma is no exception, however...he represents a segment I don't admire and I'm not afraid to say so. Most of my favorite writers abhorred something, whether it be collectivism, religious fanaticism, moralistic proponents, etc."

"And what is it you find so appalling about Toma? He may be a would-be intellectual, but he's harmless."

"Is he?" She tapped the tabletop impatiently. "I'm beginning to think the Bible's assertion that the meek will inherit the earth is true. The people raised in this society of ours are mostly happy, over indulgent imbeciles. Those who have intelligence are snuffed out because of their Psycho Passes or if they are lucky depending on your viewpoint put into isolation. There is no way for a truly critical person to survive, the cards are stacked against Einstein's, Bach's, Nietzsche's of the world and its all because the foolish are afraid of their own shadows."

"Very true, but Toma isn't as subservient as you think. He's very radical in some ways."

"True perhaps, but his lack of intellect or will to try to better himself simply makes him envious of those who do know. To quote Orwell, "Ignorance is Strength."

"Yes, he's a part of the problem, not the cure, but is he the main source of Sibyl? I believe Toma is just as disgusted as we are by it, he just isn't articulate enough to state why."

"Is there a cure?" Her frown made her look old and almost stately. Shogo admired the planes of her creased face and tense shoulders, of the successive rise and fall of her agitated breath. He loved seeing drive in others, it always entertained him.

"You're very pretty, Miss. Shizuka," he touched the cuff of her brazer. "That, right there, is the beauty of thought, of the individual splendor of free will."

"There is a cure, isn't there?" She lacked a plaintive tone surprisingly and her eyes told him that she already knew the answer. "How?"

How to kick start the collapse of the Sibyl system indeed.

* * *

"Mr. Shibata?" She was leaning over him, book in hand. "Here."

"Done with it already? I would think between classes and life you'd be too preoccupied to get to it."

"I make time for important subjects. What are you doing today?"

"I haven't any plans."

"Want to go to a non-approved botanical garden?" He stared at her in shock. Such a thing didn't exist in their society. Sibyl had undermined all creative projects, limiting the arts to only allowed writers, musicians, and artists. The same had occurred to industry, self made entrepreneurs were a thing of the past and also to works of natural beauty. He could still remember seeing old pictures of the Keukenhof Gardens in Lisse, Netherlands or The Garden of Cosmic Speculation in Scotland. The vast amount of colors had astonished the senses in the Keukenhof Gardens and the speculative patterns of the Scotland Gardens had been breathtaking. It had moved him very much as a child and so he had visited the one's in Japan, only to be disappointed by the lack of variety and creative designs.

"Like the Singapore Botanic Gardens?"

"You are very well informed. Come with me."

"I wouldn't miss it." It was housed inside a gymnasium in the same level as Arno's bookstore. The gymnasium had been emptied and the flooring completely taken out to reveal earth. The garden were monumental. Not only was there a feast for the eyes but the smell was overwhelming when close to the plants. There were great columns of bushes, swirling grassy outcrops surrounded by waterfalls, flowers of every imaginable color and shape, and many he had no clue about.

In front of them were two men, both in their mid-fifties. They were talking about some Rikugi-en Gardens that originated in Bunkyō-ku, Japan that had once been popular. He had no idea what they were referring to, but he would investigate it later.

"This is..."

"No words can describe it?" She laughed, touching his elbow. "Take it slowly. You'll get overwhelmed from excitement if you try to see it all at once."

"How did you find this place?" He asked, walking the dirt path around the area and staring at some flowers that were the deepest shade of orange he'd ever seen.

"I have my connections," she answered coyly. "To be honest it is hard to make a place like this possible. Most of the builders Psycho Passes have deteriorated and they are either dead or about to go pass Sibyl's tolerance level. It's amazing that one little garden, especially so grand a thing, can be dangerous to someone's Psycho Pass."

"I'm not sure that's the case. After building something like this how could anyone accept Sibyl's ideas anymore? How could anyone be content with a society that shelves its creative liberties in order that the majority may lead happy existences? How can they live unproductive lives chained by Sibyl in that way? I imagine they can't or they can reach for more and be killed by Sibyl for their efforts."

"I think people are entirely capable of living bland lives and some people enjoy it. As Orwell depicted some people are so afraid of death they'd sacrifice everything to keep it at bay."

"Is the unknowable truly that petrifying? I like to think of death as an adventure when it comes. If I die and there is no afterlife, as I imagine it to be, then that's a fitting end and my life would have felt meaningful since at the very least I remained true to myself. If there is an afterlife, of the likes of Christian dogma, I could imagine no more asinine place given everyone, whether they want to believe it or not, is quite capable of committing crimes which would land them in Hell. Do you think simply thinking such thoughts would place someone in Hell? And is it possible to avoid them, given our human precedent for curiosity and is it even desirable to forgo such thought? Sibyl would say yes to that. I suppose at least Hell would be fun given my favorite writers would be there. If the afterlife is reincarnation that would at least be entertaining, but I'd hate to devolve into an animal or plant, simply for the fact I adore having the function of a reasoning mind."

"I'm not entirely certain death is the ultimate thing to be afraid of. Perhaps the idea of having pain inflicted in what feels like eternity is what terrifies people more than death itself? At least in death there is an end."

"What I truly don't understand about the sheep," he turned his face skyward, staring at the dark steel ceiling bitterly, "is why humans are so afraid to embrace everything that makes us human, at least in Sibyl's controlled society. Is it much the same outside?"

"I think people are more concerned with torture out there. They've seen so much of death they've become sterile to it, outraged only quietly within themselves. A certain pessimism primates the air, hanging over everyone, an understanding that it happens and is horrible but unpreventable. A bullet to the head is preferable to slow agonizing torture of the sort the military use."

"You speak as if you know," he fixed his predatory eyes on her. Today she wore a black cocktail dress and high heels. A slim unassuming figure among the cheerful colors around them.

"I grew up outside Japan, at least until my father moved us here when I was sixteen."

"Really," he watched her closely, seeing a guarded look that hadn't been present pass over her features. One hand clutched her bare arm and she stared angrily at the floor.

"It was awful out there, Mr. Shibata," she affirmed testily, "but even among the violence of the military and nationalists and people in power the average person had a relatively normal life. There was always the threat of the bombs, of the firing squad or noose, and many other things. Torture was the worse thing imaginable though. Sleep deprivation, dogs to frighten the victims into submission, using noise mufflers or pads to deprive the senses, temperate extreme cells, the use of drugs to impair the brain, the list really goes on and on. Sexual abuse was very common too..."

Her eyes shifted and roved around the gymnasium as she talked, her hands and legs moving restlessly at the idea. "I had an uncle you see who went through some of that. He suffered humiliation, degradation, hallucinations, everything really. He ended up killing himself after he was released."

"It must have been unbearable," he said.

"Death really was preferable to losing your personality and reason for living. My father gave me _1984_ to read around that time. Have you ever read Huxley's _Brave New World_?"

"Yes. A great favorite of dystonia novel of mine, almost as dear to my heart as _1984_."

"Then you'll remember the motto Community, Identity, and Stability."

"Yes. A favorite of mine from _1984_ is "War is Peace, Freedom is Slavery, Ignorance is Strength."

"Do you think Japan represents Orwell or Huxley's work more?"

"It's decidedly a conglomerate of Orwell, Huxley and Philip K. Dick."

"What about Orwell and Huxley do you see more of?"

"Orwell's totalitarianism is present in the judicial system and the job placement aspect. Huxley's sexual promiscuity and use of Soma remind me of Sibyl's conditioning therapy and, though we have some pills already, I've heard they are working on a new pharmaceutical drug to lower Psycho Passes further and for longer periods. The side effects and short duration which pills last now isn't a preferable treatment." He crossed his arms as he spoke. "Both works have a caste system dividing people on intellectual merits with Japan separating their people based on their crime coefficient and hue. In Dick's work the use of Mercerism and the Empathy Box–."

"Dick?" He realized he'd mentioned an author she wasn't familiar with.

"Philip K. Dick wrote _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep_. A must read for any dystonian lover. I'm surprised you've never read of him."

"I've heard Dick's name before, but not that title. What is it about?"

"The poor can only afford electric animals hence the unusual title. Humanity, due to some catastrophic event on Earth, has migrated for the most part to Mars and only a few remain below. The main protagonist Rick Deckard hunts androids who have fled Mars. The story follows a day where he hunts down six Andys but in the process he gains compassion for them."

"Is there an antagonist aside from the androids or...?"

"Philip Resch is another bounty hunter, but he remains determined to kill the androids, even after sex with one."

"Named after the author? Strange."

"Resch is just a sounding board for Deckard. He's coldly effective at killing and takes pleasure in it. As Deckard says, "if you had a pretext you'd kill me." He's the indifferent human, the kind who could strip the earth of all plants and animals under the pretext they aren't human enough."

"Which side are you on?"

"I dislike androids," he said methodically, a small smile beckoning at the corner of his lips. "Mostly because they could dominate humans under the right conditions and subvert us to second class citizens. The key to androids is to never let them become as intelligent as humans, keep their processors below a school grade level. In a neutral setting with cooperation I see nothing wrong with the idea of androids roaming around as long as precautions are in place to protect humanity. They are already mostly plausible in our society. They can manufacture any robotic part to replace human ones nowadays and some, like Toyohisa Senguji, are cybernetic but for the brain and nervous system."

"Its funny," she laughed, stopping near the exit of the gymnasium. "The way you think, Mr. Shibata, it's so unique."

"Why's that? It seems common to me or rather that it should be. After all shouldn't we strive to be as unbiased as possible?"

"That's the funny thing," she barely seemed to contain her delight. "It's like you never grew up, while at the same time being the most enlightening individual alive. When you speak I get the impression I'm not listening to a regular man, but one who sees every aspect of mankind and revels in its beauty. Even when I spoke earlier of torture you scarcely batted an eye at the ravaging cruelty of mankind that would make most shudder and plead for me to stop. You embrace even the most chaotic extremes of the human condition as something that is inevitable and eternal. You make even something barbaric seem agreeable."

"Barbarism is simply in the eye of the beholder. To claim any absolute truth reeks of intellectual fallacy. Even my hatred of the Sibyl System is a byproduct of my adoration for literature and reason as the means to educate mankind. At the same time, I'm aware of the usefulness of Sibyl's security, of the benefit for the majority, and the unparalleled technological advancement we've achieved. I just tend to put individual freedom and identity above a limit endorsing judicial system governed by an imperfect setup. Limits to me hinder us as a race rather than help us grow, even if that means unleashing elements in society that harm us. To limit the good alongside the bad is a perfidious betrayal of mankind's nature. Personally I see no reason why the bad needs to be regulated so extremely, it's just another part of us."

"That's–." Her communication device beeped loudly in the solemn atmosphere. She looked at it with frustration, her eyes showing she'd rather throw it to the ground and leave it than answer.

He nodded her to take the call and sat on the bench near the entrance. His fingertips skimmed the surface of a wisteria's leaves, a calm serenity suffusing his face and manners. The texture was interesting and the smell of the moss underfoot intoxicating. He threw his head back, enjoying the moment as fully as he could. The next moment he scowled, throwing his ridged shoulders up and staring jadedly into the distance.

"Sorry, that was my therapist. I missed my meeting. It is not important though. What?"

"I was just thinking that perhaps I'm wrong."

"How can you say that?"

"It's entirely possible that without Sibyl humanity may be worse off."

"No, Yukimori!" She looked flustered and he paused, eyeing her critically. She hadn't said his alias' first name before. "No society is better off that burns books like in _Fahrenheit 451_ , or builds and maintains power through ignorance and torture like _1984,_ or that destroys people's compassion like your Dick reference. All society which limits is wrong like you said. Trust me, I endured years out there and there were people who were violent bigots and military supremacists but there was happiness and pain in tandem and that above all else is what makes people worth admiring. Happiness alone isn't an ideal to admire."

"Of course."

"A society which silences it's dissenters rather than praise them" isn't worth praise itself."

"What you're saying is we are already badly off and to not act is folly because by acting we can setup two outcomes, both of which, whether ending in violent chaos or a new order, might prove better than what came before."

"Exactly," the red in her cheeks lightened and she relaxed, smiling euphorically. "We'll never know if we don't try."

"You're right, Elaine," he stood and walked towards the exit. "It's time I stop seriously contemplating what to do about Sibyl and act. My favorite personal motto is _"_ _Throw Away Your Books, Rally in the Streets,_ _"_ based on a movie by Shūji Terayama."

* * *

"Elaine is French, isn't it?" Choe Gu-Sung asked, looking amused at the young woman Shogo had invited to Choe's place.

"Yes. My father named me after The Lady of Sharlott or rather Elaine of Astolat if we don't use Tennyson."

"Lancelot's paramour and Galahad's mother," Shogo added.

"He decided upon the name based on a painting by John Waterhouse. The 1894 painting of The Lady of Sharlott. He actually did three different versions of her but my father preferred the 1894 due to its dark tones. He said the painting had been a favorite of my grandmother's."

"I see."

"You honestly don't even want to know what my middle name is. Let's just say it's Arthurian as well."

"Oh," Shogo was eager to take up the challenge. "Guinevere would be the obvious guess so I'm assuming not. Vivian, who bewitched Merlin, might do but I doubt it. My guess, assuming from Elaine that he has a certain view of women as strong willed, would be Britomart."

"Elaine Britomart Shizuka?" Choe laughed at her annoyance.

"At least its not Korean," she mocked divisively as his laughter only increased. "He took Britomart from a painting by William Crane in 1900."

"A painting connoisseur," Shogo said, "did he own them?"

"Yes and many more besides. They were only copies of the great works, given that most were destroyed by the wars, but at least the bare essence of what they stood for remained in view. I'm sure you can appreciate his devotion to art, Mr. Shibata." He exchanged a brief look with Choe, who smiled indulgently.

"You've no fondness for art, Elaine?"

"I find it beautiful, but I've no talent, much the same with novels I suppose."

"Sibyl classified you as a teacher for your vast knowledge rather than let such usefulness writhe away. At least it has enough sense for that, but inevitably that leniency will amount to its downfall. A bittersweet irony."

"Yukimori, want to meet a friend of mine?"

"Sure."

* * *

The house was dark and old, the windows covered with dark velvet curtains. Behind the door frame light could be seen. It was a two story building done in the Rococo-style with a pale yellow color.

"Are you well acquainted with the French segment in Japan?" Shogo asked half jokingly, knowing the answer long before it left her mouth.

"Hilaire Arno supplies me with books and Jourdain Lécuyer with music."

"How have you managed to avoid the cymatic scans?" Choe asked in wonderment.

"I also have another friend named Mateo Romilly who is quite good at giving me routes around them."

"Very well done."

"You have to adapt and get assistance if you want some chance of defying Sibyl, even in such small measures."

She knocked upon the door's frame, there was no door bell to push to alert the person inside.

"Who's there?"

"Elaine."

"Who is with you?" The peep hole was occupied and they could hear muffled noise behind the door.

"Friends."

"Friends," the voice was blatantly uninviting. "Send them away."

"No. We came here for some music, Jourdain."

"You always do."

"Please?"

"Fine, but take off your shoes and any jackets. I want to look over your friends first."

"Okay." Inside the air was musty and reeked of cigarettes and booze. "What have you been doing? Obviously not cleaning."

"As if I ever," his voice was heard from another room to which they entered. It was a quaint kitchen, battered cabinets and fridge and electronics on their last leg. The light was dim, emitting only a soft glow from one lamp in the corner, the rest cast in shadow.

"Coffee or booze?"

"Coffee."

"Your friends?"

"What kind of booze?" Choe asked mildly amused. Being offered an alcoholic drink was pretty much unheard of.

"Vodka is all I think. Some times tequila."

"I was hoping you had beer." Jourdain looked impressed at Choe, but the look he sent Makishima's way was more thoughtful. "You?"

"Coffee so long as it is the real kind."

"Sugar?"

"No."

"I hate black," he grumbled, pulling out the cups and readying the instruments. "Go take a seat."

She led them down the narrow corridor to the living space. The room was a baby blue with tasteful white chairs and sofa. The table was glass and brass. Elaine sat with a smile, beckoning them to sit. Shogo took the chair as Choe sat next to her, slinging his arm slung around the back and putting his feet up on the table.

"Nice place," Choe said, "very modern given the outside."

"Jourdain only picked this place for the price and location."

Jourdain entered and they got a good look at his face in the well lit room. His curly dark hair framed a thin almost handsome face, the weariness in his facial expression and the coldness in his hazel eyes gave him an indistinguishable age.

"What did you come to listen to?" Jourdain asked briskly, setting the tray down and passing out the glasses. The one he handed to Makishima was chipped on the rim.

"I haven't decided yet," she said primly, "Just play anything. Mozart perhaps?"

" _The Magic Flute_ , okay?"

"That's a fine start."

" _The Magic Flute_ ," Shogo purred, "There was a reference to it in _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep_. I've always wanted to hear it."

"You are in for a treat then," Jourdain's eagerness was barely concealed as he flipped the television panel up into the ceiling, revealing a speaker system. "It's very hard to come by any good music in Japan. When I heard Mozart for the first time I was in love. One second beautiful quiet melody and then heart pounding cascade."

During the playing of Mozart the room was deadly silent. Shogo closed his eyes, listening intently to each second as if his life depended upon it. Choe after a few seconds yawned, looking bored as it continued.

"I hate idiots who can't appreciate good music," he stated angrily at Choe, "Get out if you can't stand it."

"Oh, Jourdain, don't be like that. Some people just have different taste. Play _Ride of the Valkyries_ by Wagner, please?"

"Alright." The trumpets and strings were beautiful together.

" _1812 Overture_ by Tchaikovsky." The cannons and church bells were a truly inventive addition and added a speculator flair to the piece.

"What next?"

"Let's switch it up, Jourdain, a different genre this time. Pink Floyd maybe?"

" _Another Brick in the Wall_ then."

"Yukimori will like it, it's about teachers," she laughed delightedly, but her tone was impertinent. "Next play _Imagine_ by John Lennon. It's decidedly very Utopian."

"These are actually kind of good," Choe said with a smile, "better than earlier at any rate."

"What about _Don't Stop Believing?_ ** _"_**

"Well of course, Jourdain. Let's try some Disturbed. I enjoyed listening to _The Light_ last time I was here."

"Okay."

" _Rise_ by Skillet."

"Alright," Jourdain sounded strained.

"Oh Rage Against the Machine and Muse! Yukimori will love Muse!" _Uprising_ blared from the speakers. Shogo, sitting quiet and tense, sighed as the words began, filling the small room with images of violent oppressors and struggling against them.

"Play _Revolt_ by Muse." Revolt was beautiful, an anthem to defiance and strength.

"Alright I'm done."

"Already?" Elaine complained as Jourdain turned the music off half way through. "We didn't get to play any female vocalists. At least play Delain's _Tragedy of the Commons_ for me."

"Last one," Jourdain snapped, face grave as he flipped the last song on.

"Thank you," Makishima said when the last note had ended. "It was all beautiful in its own way."

"I'll make Jourdain play more next time. You have no idea how many genres are out there."

"Time to go," Jourdain was standing impatiently, glaring at Elaine. "I'm not in the mood for this."

"What's that suppose to mean," she craned her head to the side, giving him a sharp look of criticism. "You love having people to listen with."

"Maybe once," he walked over to the window which was closed and opened it. He lit a cigarette, keeping his back towards them. "What's the damn point of showing my collection off anymore? Its all so meaningless."

"Living our lives isn't meaningless."

"That's rich. Next week Sibyl will kill your friends when their Psycho Passes cloud, Elaine, I hope it was worth it."

"I wouldn't worry about me," Makishima said, "I'm not afraid of death."

The look Jourdain gave him over his shoulder was disdainfully disbelieving. He sighed, smoke curling around his face and out the window into the dark night.

"There is a lot worse to be afraid of than death." Shogo said, setting his cup down. "Life is meaningless if you give it no value."

"I'll stop by next week," Elaine said, touching Jourdain's elbow gently. "I promise to check up on you. Remember to eat, okay?"

"Fine."

As they were leaving they heard a song blasting from the room, but could only make out snatches of it. Elaine said, " _When You're Young_ by Three Doors Down."

"Where did he get those from?" Choe asked, "I'd love to copy some of them."

"Old mix CD's from when he was a kid in France. He would record anything he could get his hands on to drown out the sound of his parents shouting matches. His parents divorced when he was eight and his father moved them to Japan a year later."

"Mix CD's?"

"Old technology to record music on. As far as I know Jourdain hasn't been able to reproduce it in the new format."

"Maybe I could help?"

"Thanks, Choe."

"It would be a pleasure to spread that around. Might be the best thing I've done with myself."

* * *

Quotations/Passages in order:

" _It is cruel, you know, that music should be so beautiful. It has the beauty of loneliness of pain: of strength and freedom. The beauty of disappointment and never-satisfied love. The cruel beauty of nature and everlasting beauty of monotony."_ Benjamin Britten, _Letters from a Life Vol 1: Selected Letters and Diaries of Benjamin Britten_

" _The pessimist regards social conditions as forming a system bound together by an iron law which cannot be evaded, so that the system is given, as it were, in one block, and cannot disappear except in a catastrophe which involves the whole."_ \- Georges Sorel, _Reflections of Violence_

" _War is Peace, Freedom is Slavery, and Ignorance is Strength,"_ George Orwell, _1984_

" _A society which silences it's dissenters rather than praise them."_ \- President John F. Kennedy, in a speech at Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, New York City, April 27, 1961

References to Movies:

_T_ _hrow Away Your Books, Rally in the Street_ _s_ by Shūji Terayama

References:

_Egotism in German Philosophy_ _by_ George Santayana about Friedrich Nietzsche and Arthur Schopenhauer

_Sherlock Homes_ by Arthur Conan Doyle

_T_ _he Fountainhead_ by Ayn Rand

_1984_ by George Orwell

_Brave New World_ by Aldous Huxley

_Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep_ by Philip K Dick

_Fahrenheit 451_ by Ray Bradbury

References to Paintings:

_The Lady of Sharlott_ done in 1894 by John Waterhouse

_Britomart_ 1900 by William Crane

References to Music:

Einstein and Bach are mentioned by name only

_The Magic Flute_ by Mozart

_Ride of the Valkyries_ by Richard Wagner

_1812 Overture_ by Tchaikovsky

__Another Brick in the Wall__ by Pink Floyd

__Imagine__ by John Lennon

__Don't Stop Believing__ by Journey

_The Light_ by Disturbed

_Rise_ by Skillet

Rage Against the Machine, no specific song

_Uprising_ by Muse

_Revolt_ by Muse

_Tragedy of the Commons_ by Delain

_When You're Young_ by Three Doors Down


	3. Chapter 3: Cicero

" _The name of peace is sweet, the thing itself is most salutary. But between peace and slavery there is a wide difference. Peace is liberty in tranquillity; slavery is the worst of all evils, — to be repelled, if need be, not only by war, but even by death." -_ Marcus Tullius Cicero, _Complete Works of Cicero_

"Elaine," she turned away from her grading work. Their correspondence had been going on now for eight weeks of which Shogo was seldom bored. He found between her and Choe he was kept from the monotony of life in Sibyl's society.

"Yukimori," she lifted her pen from the paper and set it down.

"What are you doing today?"

"I haven't decided yet. Reading probably."

"Come with me?" She smiled wickedly, rising quickly and following on his heels. Oso Academy was located on the outskirts of Tokyo, amidst shady trees and swirling paths. She trailed after him, his strides outpacing her. She had walk fast to catch up, halting to peer over his shoulder. They had stopped atop a small hill, fall leaves lining the overrun grass around them. He sat down, spreading his legs before him and his arms propping him up. He looked so relaxed that she didn't dare to disturb him.

"What's this about Yukimori?"

"What do you think of me?"

"Of you?" She pursed her lips, sitting cross legged beside him and gazing into the firmament. The clouds were soft white, like Makishima's hair and the sky a faded blue, the same shade as the sweater she wore today.

She started off softly, her face pinched in concentration as she spoke, "You're an interesting sort, Mr. Shibata. How should I describe you, truly? Is there a word, a single sentence which could do you justice? I could say you're an anarchist, but that would be an unfair oversimplification. I could declare you a rebel, a revolutionary, a maverick, a progressive, a leftist? None of these definitions quite suit you. A thousand words wouldn't suffice to explain your disposition. If we aren't speaking philosophically, but of your personality well... You express yourself articulately, speak freely about what's on your mind, invest your energies into explaining what you feel. A charismatic leader, an unrelenting persistence, fortitude, and reliable character seem accurate, but not enough to really explain who you are as a man."

"You put a good deal of thought into it."

"An intriguing puzzle needs to be examined thoroughly to get the gist of it."

"I like that," he smiled mischievously, "the gist of it. You never once in your answer implied or stated that you understood me in the entirety. Too many fools claim to comprehend other people, but how is such a thing possible given that we are all separate entities capable of being complete paradoxes even to ourselves, much less to the outward observer?"

"A true sage speculates not about others but himself, unless of course speculation about others relates to himself."

"What do you think of Choe?"

"He's funny," she laughed, "I feel like he tries hard to be intellectual, but really he's not much inclined to thought provoking contemplation. He certainly admires you though, Mr. Shibata, which I imagine has to do with his own ignorance. He's definitely a genius with hacking."

"He's very useful and to be honest he's more compelling when he's going on about computer programs or manipulation, but if he talks about a novel he comes off very sluggish and a tad boorish. I don't keep him around for that. He's insightful to me in his street ways and his common cunning."

"Okay," she was staring at him peevishly. "You don't speak of him as a person would a friend, but like an acquaintance."

"Gu-Sung is..." he paused, eyes narrowing into the distance. "I've known him only for a little while, but he remains interesting. I think perhaps it could become friendship, if I thought there was value in such a standard definition."

"You've never had a friend before, have you? Standard definition?" She laughed, pressing her hand to her cheek as he glared at her.

"I've lived a very solitary life," he answered curtly and she realized he was angry. It was an odd look on his face and she found herself unsure of how to respond to it. The look melted away in the next instant and he lay back, stretching his arms above his head and closing his eyes.

"What was your childhood like?" She assumed he'd had companionship then at least.

"Hm?" He opened his amber eyes, blinking at her rapidly. "Few people have ever bothered to ask me."

"Oh?"

"It was common," he said, his shoulders tense. He pulled his violet tie off, sitting it beside him. "What do you want to know about it? My parents?"

"Sure. That's a start."

"My father was born in the year 2057. He was a lawyer working for a large firm and his job became obsolete when Sibyl took over. The first novel I ever read was Sherlock Holmes which my father had gotten at a flea market before Sibyl. He's the reason I read Michael Connelly and Henry Denker when I was teenager. He was a proud patriot and conservative who read the Bible regularly. He smoked pot often, went fishing on the weekends, and had several martial affairs. He was a very flawed individual but he was brilliant in the courtroom."

"Sounds like you got your charisma from him."

"Not at all. My father was terribly shy when younger and practiced often and took a long time to become a good orator. My mother was far more extroverted. She would host lavish parties, entertaining snobbish ladies and gentlemen and gossiping constantly. She was a philanthropist and fiercely stubborn. My father was apparently the love of her life and she remained faithful to him as far as I know. She was indifferent to religion early on but adopted it. She hated menial labor and never held a job longer than six months."

"They sound delightfully alive," she smiled.

"They were before Sibyl. I received most of their history from Sengūji, who knew my father personally. After Sibyl my father began to look at life differently. He was directionless without his career. Sibyl assigned him the job of motivational speaking, but it wasn't the same. His hue clouded over his anguish about his situation now and he committed suicide. My mother had fewer problems fitting in and disconnected from the world around her by the end. She had let go and felt no aggression for my father's eventual death. I don't know if her personality was so accustomed to accommodating others over herself or the stress reducing pills turned her into such a dull creature."

"That sounds horrible."

"It is happening all around us. The older generation is dying out or adapting and the younger one is becoming sterile to all feelings but happiness. It is a very numbing place, even if the denizens can't see that."

"That's tragic."

"It doesn't have to be if we defy it. Now I'll turn the question back onto you."

"My father was a teacher if you can believe it. He taught elementary grade. He felt kids were more impressionable and he hated the violence he saw around us, hoping he could through education prevent them from following in the wake of their contemporaries. That's why I picked Oso Academy when I graduated from University. I felt like it is one of few places left where there is freedom to teach critical thinking skills rather than forcing propaganda. He was a brave man, passionate about his career much like your father. He saw the world torn apart by the wars and vowed to try and make amends, if not through others than through his own actions."

"Sounds like my kind of man," Shogo said.

"He was. My mother was a nurse, helping the sick and working many times in war zones. I don't remember much about her, just that she had dark hair, was Japanese, and loved rice cakes. My father often spoke well of her, talking about how honest and self sacrificing she was. She died when I was ten when one of the hospitals she was at was bombed by some extremists. My father was irrecoverably damaged by it."

The creeping sadness in her eyes moved Shogo, so unused to seeing strong emotions in others.

"My uncle Francois, on my father's side, was released from the war prison around this time. I told you what he endured before. The next three years my father spent trying to save Francois, hoping he could help him assimilate back into society. Francois killed himself, purposely on the anniversary of my mother's death, leaving a suicide note derailing mankind's monstrous ways and my father's positivism. He began reading about Sibyl around this time and the vast improvements to technology and security happening there. Seeing the state of France and most of the surrounding world, Japan seem like a beacon of hope. The last vestige of humanity he would say. I was fifteen when he'd managed to find a way to smuggle us in."

"He would have been better off outside."

"You are right. When we arrived it was nothing like we thought it would be. Personally I was too young to have much of an opinion and I'd never read up much on Sibyl but he knew what to expect and even then he was surprised by it. The D _ominator_ and its destructive force always mentioned in conversation like it was nothing, the constant checking of Psycho-Passes, the drones in every corner, the hologram clothing and displays. It was all so weirdly new to us and at first exciting, until we realized the gravity of it all."

"Did your father come to hate the Sibyl System?"

"No. The secrecy of most of Sibyl's actions helped at first to maintain my faith. I met Jourdain, Mateo, and Hilaire around this period. They were a welcome reprieve from the boring humdrum of school and the social awkwardness of explaining my origins to the Japanese people who weren't use to foreigners. More than anything else they were a reminder of France which was a familiar constant I could focus on. I adopted my mother's maiden name Shizuka to fit in better and started going by it."

"What happened to your father?"

"He was caught by a cymatic scan and killed due to his high crime coefficient. Of all the people I've known since, to have a high Psycho Pass he seemed the least likely, he was always generous and kind to strangers...I don't know what Sibyl saw."

"Your own Psycho Pass rose after this?"

"A little. Honestly around that time, when I was nineteen, I was away at University. I heard about it immediately, but it didn't feel real. I went back to his house and searched it up and down, trying to find some hint of what had driven him to it. Do you know what I found?"

"Nothing?"

"Exactly! He was suffering from the pains of his past though. He'd collected every picture of my mother Kohaku and my uncle and I suppose the stress of the move, his growing apprehension of his Psycho Pass, and his remembrance of our time outside, might have amounted to it happening."

"Did he do anything to warrant it?"

"No, thought crime is punishable on its own. Sibyl just assumes if you can think about something you're more than willing to act on that impulse. What a pile of crap!"

"Why did you stay in Japan?"

"That will require a lengthy explanation, but mostly it is hard to leave. Sibyl watches the borders well, we only got in due to some connection with an old bureaucratic friend who helped us escape detection. The second is a personal duty I feel I have. My father and so many others like Jourdain have been forced to confront themselves over their Psycho Passes and become anxious and half mad over it. I don't doubt my father never would have acted out if not for Sibyl's over-control of everything."

"I agree. Sibyl is like a virus that inflicts every aspect of life."

"There were two types of people I noticed in Japanese society during that period. The simple minded who could override their mental facilities and accept Sibyl on the basis of protecting the majority. Those types of people who couldn't or wouldn't do anything talented even in the rudimentary ways. The other group was those defying Sibyl, those who couldn't turn off their rebellious wildness, those who caved in small doses but took back their freedom in the most meaningful ways. In their everyday lives they appeared alongside the sheep, but eventually they turned traitor."

"The herd mentality so often is opposed to any thought provoking idea," Shogo said, sitting up and staring forlornly. "A truly sad affair, this society of ours."

"The Enforcers and Inspectors fall into this first category on the norm and really anyone else willing to succumb to the system in the idea that law comes before individual freedom. Jourdain, is the second group, and could have been something great, but at every turn Sibyl imposed on his creativity. He began looking at himself like he was a mistake, like their was something wrong with him and he began crushing his hopes and using intoxicants to ease his pain. I couldn't bear to see him purposely killing that grand spark. Someday he's going to opt out or do something radical to try and make up for the dreariness of his current life."

"Sometimes I wonder if Sibyl made us this way or if we are naturally inclined one way or the other regardless of environment. In society of old you see countless individuals of merits but also the overwhelming majority, regardless of status or any superficial thing like wealth, who lived thoughtless existences, only expressing an eloquent idea once a year at best."

"Deep thinkers will be so regardless of education, background, or environment, is what you're saying?"

"Exactly and I fear the more we punish those people the quicker will be our decline and Sibyl's growing influence. Soon no one will raise a hand against the system, becoming ever more complacent, and less demanding of what's important until there isn't anyone left to stand up."

"I can imagine it and it is horrifying and more than that mystifying that for security we would allow any atrocity to happen."

"How easily the sheep can turn a blind eye so long as it isn't them in the therapy centers or at the end of the Dominator's deathblow."

"The really staggering thing is that few even realize there is something wrong."

"Very well said," he closed his eyes. "Can you name ten things wrong with our society?"

"Easy, Yukimori," her smile was wide and her eyes closed as she rattled off the list effortlessly. "The first is incarcerating people and confining them to therapy centers where they forcefully reeducate you using drugs and psychiatry techniques. This is universally accepted as a good form of rehabilitation when in reality it is imprisoning people for merely thinking of acting or encouraging expression of the individual. Second example I already mentioned, policing people not just for crimes they committed but for thinking them, whether they intent to follow through or not, the mere thought raises your Psycho Pass and makes you susceptible to the above imprisonment."

"Three is the whitewashing and historical editing done to every web page to conform to Sibyl's agenda. Four is mandatory job placement exams after High School which force you into a career, regardless of your own ideas, based on temperament and Psycho Pass. Even if you grow as an adult and branch out your expertise or your temperament becomes what Sibyl considered prudent you have no chance for upward mobility as your career is not something you can change."

"Yes," he smiled, pleased at her responses thus far.

"Five is the censorship of art. Music, painting, novels, cinema, all form of entertainment only allowable if Sibyl decides you get the career. Only sponsored artists, novelists, and others are able to work and black marketing any of it will raise your Psycho Pass because you've become conditioned to mass produced works of little thought. Old works deemed unsuitable from before Sibyl are banned or destroyed. Six is the complete eradication of free enterprise, having set careers means lack of innovation and achievement and the stagnation of technology by individuals not sponsored by Sibyl."

"Good."

"Thanks. Seven relates to the idea that the watchman needs a watcher himself. Sibyl is our sole authority and Inspectors are guards for Enforcers. Enforcers are just used to pull the trigger, not act self sufficiently or to judge Sibyl's denouncements. To question Sibyl's rule, to show some autonomy is the definition of defying Sibyl's laws. Eight must be," here she paused, rising from where she sat and walking a little to stretch out her stiff legs.

"Eight is an extension of the last number. Free will to choose is stripped from people. Careers, marriage once Sibyl finds the algorithm, deviant sexual fetish, the choice for common things like whether to stay home or go out, all influenced by Sibyl's conditioning. All impassivity for choice is championed as the benchmark, any passions which excite are looked at as negative stress inductors and rapidly trampled on. Nine is the citizens prevented from learning self defense or bearing arms outside of the Inspectors and Enforcers. Humans will always attack others and being unable to defend yourself is an oppression of the highest order of what comes natural to mankind."

"What's ten?" His eyes followed her figure, a slim graceful form in a blue sweater and black jeans. Her face, the only disquieted part of her, was radiant in the diminishing light of dusk with its orange and purples.

"Obviously," she turned towards him, poignant eyes and trembling lips. "Life expectancy is dropping significantly as those who enjoy stimulus like us kill themselves to find freedom in the hereafter. Those who don't end it die a more painful living death around the skeletons. The worse part is people are forgetting what it means to think logically, fearful little animals consumed with perpetual Psycho Pass checks and the damningly irrelevant illusion around them to anything human-like."

Shogo stood, the bright orb now gone from view, darkness all around now but for small pinpoints of lights that indicated the direction of Oso Academy. He felt a numbness in his legs from sitting so long and a ravishing hunger in his gut from lack of sustenance.

Her shoulders were trembling now and her head was hung low. He touched the top of the long straight hair with his fingertips, feeling what he imagined in his mind might be the feeling of real satin if he'd ever had the pleasure. He saw her jump and her body stiffen, after a moment she relaxed and his hand, still during her surprise, moved again, catching strands into his hand and rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger. He made his touch reassuringly gentle and his face placid.

She gave an explosive laugh, pulling free of his touch and staring at him with some mixture of emotions he found hard to catch for how quickly they came and went.

"My mother would rub my head as a child to soothe me. I thought it might do you some good."

"Oh that's it then," she looked at her feet hopelessly. "I've quite overdone myself today, getting so worked up. Forgive me, I'm such a ninny, I just get so worked up about these things, especially when they relate to me."

"It's alright," he imagined she had very few people to discuss what they'd taken to conversing about. He could recreate in his head the many nights she'd probably fruitlessly contemplated these thoughts alone, in the darkness of a small apartment, in the middle of a crowd of busy passersby when she spotted something that triggered them, in the echo of Shakespeare's tragedies, a constant trace of her own suffering.

When he'd been an adolescent he did remember vaguely happy times with his parents, but his teen years and beyond had been unbearable. He understood loneliness, of the vast hallways of his family's estate, empty staircases and guestrooms not used in years, the garden full of wild life but nothing human amidst all that. Of servants with vacant stares, his father's listlessness at the end of his life, his mother's cold jealousy of his prefect Psycho Pass, her shrieks that he was inhuman, the fear in her eyes that the inhuman one was really her...

He understood loneliness but in his books he'd escaped it and found companions, thoughts which could occupy him for days, worlds so free and boundless, an individual's rejection from society like in Bryon's _Manfred_. All those authors who had suffered too, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Friedrich Nietzsche, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, and Voltaire, among so many. Even loneliness was preferable to this dreary prison of a life under Sibyl and he was certain they would agree.

"Yukimori?" She touched his hand, her fingers warm and soft.

"Yes?"

"Thanks," she smiled and it was so genuine and frank he started. There were still so many beautiful things in this world, he thought, how could Sibyl deny that?

"Let's go?" He walked quickly down the hill and when Oso came into view he began running. He'd always been an excellent runner, in his teens he'd often participated in track, setting records in the long jump, beating out everyone in sprints, performing pretty well in both hurtles and relay to a lesser extent. He slowed down and eventually fell to his knees, grasping with pleasure at the painful tightness in his chest.

Elaine came a few seconds later, flying pass him. She rotated around quickly, hair flying in her face as she skid to a stop. She was breathing raggedly and looking pleased, rubbing her sweaty forehead with the sleeve of her sweater.

"You're such an oddity, Mr. Shibata," she said at last. "Why did you run?"

"For no other reason than to fill my lungs and move my legs."

She laughed again, staring at the sky. "Its late, I didn't even notice."

"Yes," he pushed himself to his feet. "Thank you for indulging me today. I'll have to let you decide what we do next time."

"I had fun so that doesn't matter," she waved as she walked back to Oso to collect her items and leave the property.

* * *

"So you spent all day with her?"

"No, only two hours...or was it three?"

"Probably more," Choe said, stirring the soup on the stove. They were at Choe's apartment, a sleek modern place of stainless steel appliances and marble counter tops. The interior was holographic, Choe claiming he got bored with any one design easily. Shogo disliked that aspect but couldn't fault Choe for being himself.

"You sound envious," he said, his hand supporting his cheek as he leaned over the diagram Choe had set before him. "This entrance is highly guarded so I'd be worried they'd spot it. We would remain more hidden if we enter through the ducts."

"Good idea. I'll get the makeup of it. What the hell do you mean by envious? You can hang out with her if you want, I just don't see the appeal."

"You said the same about Sengūji as well if I recall correctly."

"I still say that about him. He's a psychopath!" Shogo raised an eyebrow at the word choice as Choe said instead, "Alright, just not my kind of psychopath then."

"I believe he's more a sociopath really. I suppose your dislike is reasonable. Sengūji is very traditional and old fashioned and you are a modernist with a flare for the outrageous and deviant."

"That's right," Choe sipped the soup, decided it was lacking, and added some salt. "Want some?"

"Sure. Is it tomato soup?"

"No."

"Disappointing. What kind?"

"Wonton."

"I suppose."

"Way to sound excited," he chuckled, turning back to the bubbling concoction. "What do you intend to get from this?" Choe pointed at the paperwork and in a minute had pulling up a blueprint of the ventilation system inside the building.

"You have no imagination, but for someone so mechanical in thought I shouldn't be surprised. Consider the question of why this location?"

"The Ministry of Environment? I'm not getting it."

"You didn't even stop to ponder the question, Choe," Shogo was viciously glaring at him now, "I wish you'd use your brain for things other than technology at times."

"It's useless to think about it if you're just going to tell me in a second anyway," he said smugly, noting the amusement in Makishima's eyes at this statement.

"A spark of intelligence, you are surpassing yourself!" He glared but Makishima was good humored again and began his explanation. "Imagine a castle built of good foundations, solid walls, a moat and archers and other defenses. To the locals it is impenetrable to the naked eye, but a wise general with years of experience, can see the deficits as clear as daylight. To him, every mountain is surmountable, every lake crossed like the Rubicon, every village razed, and all castles breached. This castle has never fallen though many have tried, but those before him, too complacent with the tools of the day, have no ingenuity. So when this gifted man arrives he sees the problem and tackles it, sending a shudder down every living man's neck. Why? Because he did the impossible? Hardly! Because he showed mankind what it was like to strive against all odds, that there was nothing man could not do."

"Your point?"

"That the Ministry of Environment isn't beyond reach. However my main goal in doing this is to see if the holes I see so starkly in the Sibyl System have a weak point I can exploit. I'm looking for the weakest point, searching every Ministry in Japan to ascertain where it is and how to strike at it."

"I get it now."

"The Ministry of Environment is simply the first, Choe. When this is done we will be able to form plans to commence my operation against Sibyl. It will take time, but the doors will open and Sibyl will be thrown to the ground, burned to ash, and forgotten in the annals of mankind's glory, a sacrilege that lasted only temporarily over humans."

"You've really thought this through," he didn't hear hesitance in Choe's voice, but then the other was always stubbornly resolved to his course of action and being against Sibyl was the side of the coin he was on.

"I'm painstakingly methodological, it's the only way to play on the same level as Sibyl. Sometimes risk is necessary but I prefer to hedge my bets."

"Are you going to see Kouzaburo today?"

"Tonight," Shogo said, "he called me early, something urgent about finishing his plastination experiments and wanting to get started."

"And you didn't jump on that?"

"I was on my way to see Elaine."

"Your girlfriend is more important than Kouzaburo?"

"Girlfriend," Shogo chuckled, "Your thinking is so infuriatingly narrow minded at times. No more would I give the title of girlfriend to Miss. Shizuka than I would call Sengūji or Kouzaburo friends."

"What would you call them?"

"I'm the doctor and they are my patients, just a group of experimental text subject. I'm using them to find out if they have any willpower beyond wanting pure destruction."

"What will that achieve?"

"It will help me in undermining Sibyl. The more followers I can attain who think like you and I, the better off we will be. Do you think every idea of mine is abstract nonsense? I'm using some practicality in my methods even if all you see is madness."

"I'm a special case, huh?"

"An accomplice in revolution at best."

"And Shizuka?"

"I haven't decided. She has more bravo than Kouzaburo and more book smarts than Sengūji, but as for her true merits? I'm far from figuring out that part yet, which is why she's kept my interest thus far."

"But you see potential?"

"I see potential in everyone and occasionally they surprise me with insight. We will just have to wait and see how the curtain closes. For now I exit stage left to go see Toma."

"I'll map out the route for the Ministry tonight and send it to you."

"That considerable understanding," Shogo flashed Choe his winning smile, "of what I want done is why I am so fond of you, Choe."

"I'm only thinking of what I'd do myself," Choe poured some soup, "hey..." Makishima was gone, forgetting to take a bowl of wonton.

* * *

Sometimes, Shogo thought as a slipped out from his apartment, he didn't wonder if Choe could have ran the rebellion against Sibyl all by himself, that he himself was merely the figurehead who gave lavish speeches and Choe the true conductor.

They were meeting at Oso Academy, in the unused building which Sengūji had found through his tunnel systems.

"Shogo," Toma, appearing in a sterile apron and gloves with protective goggles, laughed like a school boy as he approached. "I've managed to replicate the plastination you gave me."

"Really?" Plastination, a discontinued product manufactured some five years ago by Senguji's company, had never received much applause, simply because it was useless to most people. Senguji had kept a sample of it and offered it to Makishima, saying it might be useful to those with malign aims, but that he himself couldn't get a hold of more due to the formula and product being scrapped. Toma, taking it enthusiastically upon himself, had been working tirelessly to replicate the substance.

"That's great, Toma," he answered, "now what to do with it?"

Toma laughed, "I'll find the first bastard on the street and–."

"Surely you have more creativity than that. Why not pick someone who is special to you? Someone that will make the deed all that more satisfying for you?"

"Have you ever killed anyone? I imagine I'll enjoy it either way."

"I recommend you think carefully on it and exercise caution, to be caught before the overture has ended is not very entertaining."

"Your right," Toma muttered, "but who?"

"Pick someone who fuels you into a rage, it doesn't matter what it is over. It doesn't and likely shouldn't be someone you're familiar with as that will make it too easy to find you."

"I'll have think it over," Toma was frowning now, seemingly heeding his advice. "Maybe someone in one of the ministry's? That sort of person always gals me."

"There you go, Toma, show me the true thoughts inside your head."

"Don't be afraid if they are dark."

"The darkness of man's soul doesn't deter me. To quote a famous Italian, "They will see the greatest splendour in the midst of darkness."

"Who said that and why are you interested in my depravity?""

"Da Vinci and let me now quote Nikos Kazantzakis, a famous writer known for his work _Zorba the Greek_. "The highest point a man can attain is not knowledge, not virtue, or goodness, or victory, but something even greater, more heroic and more despairing: sacred awe." My fascination, lies not primarily in the desires or act itself that keeps you enthralled with violence, Toma, but with the emotions that come forth. Why do you call it depravity? Do you believe yourself depraved? Is not this society, which crushes all instinctive acts, the true cruel oppressor?"

"Yes!" Toma became livid before Makishima's gaze, his face twisting with passion. "Yes! They, the politicians, the bureaucratic buffoonery, the worker ants...such fools who don't know what it means to harness the power of destruction. I wish to destroy them all, to crush them to dust, to watch them writhe as they have done me! Most of all...I want…I want them to know."

"To know what, Toma?" His facial expression, knitted brow and flaring nostril, sweaty forehead and gleaming eyes, was almost barbaric. Shogo smiled brightly, feeling nearly as if he could feel Toma's righteousness as well.

"To know that I am superior to them!" Toma smirked, arrogance excluding from every pore. "That we are! That we are smarter, better, more talented than those hacks. That we, the mighty pure few, are the masters of this game."

Shogo's eyes closed and he turned away, heading towards the doorway. "Contact Choe if you need supplies."

"Leaving so soon?"

"I'll be in touch." He ignored the knot in his stomach and knew that Toma was ready to go a step further now, but he had the inkling his growth was going to halt shortly and felt a tingle of disappointment down his spine.

* * *

Quotations/Passages:

" _The name of peace is sweet, the thing itself is most salutary. But between peace and slavery there is a wide difference. Peace is liberty in tranquillity; slavery is the worst of all evils, — to be repelled, if need be, not only by war, but even by death."_ Marcus Tullius Cicero, _Complete Works of Cicero_

 _"They will see the greatest splendour in the midst of darkness."_ Leonardo da V _inci,_ _The Notebooks of Leonardo Da Vinci_

" _The highest point a man can attain is not knowledge, not virtue, or goodness, or victory, but something even greater, more heroic and more despairing: sacred awe."_ \- Nikos Kazantzakis, _Zorba the Greek_

References:

Bryon's _Manfred_

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Friedrich Nietzsche

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

Voltaire

Nikos Kazantzakis' _Zorba the Greek_


	4. Chapter 4: Dickenson

"A death-blow is a life-blow to some

Who, till they died, did not alive become;

Who, had they lived, had died, but when

They died, vitality begun." - Emily Dickinson, Poems by Emily Dickinson

"Today is October the fourteenth," Elaine, sitting at the same bench as him, said curtly, "Why?"

"Today is my birthday," Makishima answered, a little perturbed that he hadn't accounted for that until just now. "I don't usually make arrangements, but I hardly ever forget the date."

"You're not going to do anything?"

"I usually have a glass of champagne with Senguji and meet Choe at his favorite club of the moment. Anything else seems...excessive for something of such little consequence."

"You think your birth was inconsequential," she looked at him incredulously, he ignored her and watched the park before them.

Children of every age were swinging, climbing, and crawling, their little arms and legs propelling them with awed excitement. Shouting, crying, and laughter was the accompaniment music, a vast melody of small astonishment as they learned what it meant to play. He watched them, a genuine smile at his lips, amazed at how much joy they took from so simple an occupation as a playground. But then children took pleasure from all the simplest of things. The thought occurred to him that he had been as naive once and he shuddered with repudiation instead of nostalgia. It may have been briefly charming in a child, but was utterly repellent in adults.

"I suppose I don't care to over examine the idea of my being born, much less of being young. I find the prospect uninviting. I don't champion the ignorance, naivety, banality, and so on that comes with being a child as most adults. I don't long for a return to simpler times, though I'm a common man in most respects. I do admire children for their courageous spirit, even if it's only a byproduct of not knowing the concept of fear and also I can understand their desire for limitless knowledge. I can only imagine if we were confined forever in childish tendencies how...oh wait some people are."

She laughed at that last sentence, smiling freely as children in bright colors ran by. She was dressed in a moss green zip up sweater, her hair done up in a single braid. For pants she wore white jeans and on her feet were black tennis shoes. To all appearances she was a mother, watching her child somewhere in the throng. To Shogo she knew how to play the expected part of an observer. Shogo, wearing a black hooded sweater and blue jeans, must have given a similar impression to the average passersby.

"Vice," her tone playful like the scene around them, "can be disarmingly sweet under the right circumstance. Children to most people are charming devils, cute only because they are small and tenderhearted still with their vices not yet fully formed. In children we see rage as tantrums which must run their course, we see tears as unnecessary foolishness for creatures who have no reason for them, not understanding that children have all the same emotions as adults, even if we can't comprehend their reasons."

"You speak from experience?"

"No, I don't have any children myself. Shortly after graduating University I worked as a substitute teacher for an elementary school. I wanted to experience what my father saw in children, to see if they could be molded as he intended. There was a mother who let her son cry uninterrupted for twenty minutes, neither reprimanding him or trying to figure out the source of his distress to ease him."

"The most odious parent is one who, being neither disciplinarian or comfort giver, is wholly indifferent. My mother was the former and my father the comforter. What was your father?"

"He was disciplinarian like his grandfather before him, but he wasn't unduly harsh. He was a great instructor."

"You were blessed then."

"I could have had worse." She tapped her finger against her thigh. "Why do you think that mother let her son cry? I've never been able to understand why she did nothing. Anything would have been better than watching him as she did, even striking or coddling would have been seemly."

"Our society has disconnected us as a community. We no longer host parties of dear friends but of acquaintances, we don't drink socially anymore, we no longer have sporting events with foreigners so there is no vested interest in seeing Japan win, we have no youth centers because a pill and therapy will keep kids off the streets."

"No cafes where people talk about anything of consequence," she mumbled, catching onto the thread he was spinning. "Just whether the sky is clear, who is getting married or having a baby, or what avatar they are going to be tomorrow. No debates about politics, religion, philosophy...the things that make us human, not the artificial substances like gossip."

"Parks are becoming obsolete as well, a necessity only for children to let off some restlessness, but soon those will vanish as we regulate childhood impulses as well. Do you see a child past ten here? I don't because they are glued to their monitors. They are closed up in their holographic homes, with their holographic pets, and their brains focusing on disinterested topics on websites. They've forgotten what it means to connect as a people, not just a blip on a screen. Without human interactions will those words on screen cease to have meaning, will we forget what facial expressions and natural meanings are and instead left constantly wondering what someone means by non-emotion indicating messages?"

"A simple heart shape to signify love when before a declaration of passionate reason dominated. No Peter Abelard, no Pierre Curie, or Prince Albert of England letters."

"Why then should a parent have maternal affection not seen in this nation since Sibyl began? That would seem odd in our world of superficial attachments. The Psycho Pass would rise whenever the child was hurt or endured suffering, but nowadays to curb that rise parents have become detached. Why shouldn't this have been a natural occurrence given this society's precedent for putting Psycho Passes above everything else?"

"That's a sad consequence," she spoke softly and Shogo shook his head, watching the carefree children.

"Looking at it we could almost say the Psycho Pass is a self-conceited mechanism which puts the individual above the collective, including family and friends. However that definition doesn't do justice to the components. Sibyl has twisted the definition of individual, put a mask upon it and warped it into a monolithic endorsement of the whole, turning the term into a concept barely akin to the way it was once used. The collective is protected at the expense of the individual and identity wiped clean, only the self descriptive analysis of the Psycho Pass remaining."

Elaine frowned, listening to his words reverently.

"Is personal identity even a concept anymore? How does a man define himself if not by his familial ties or friends earned? If not by his relation to others then by his relevance to society? If society labels people based upon natural inclinations in the brain than man must submit to that idea and rejoice in it because without it he has no other way to distinguish himself. If he does not say, "My hue is clear, therefore I am a good and respectable citizen," than what is he left with?"

"He has no need to figure out who he is or what he wants, not if Sibyl can do it all for him." She said, watching as a girl scrapped her knee and her mother came running up to her. "So family connections are irrelevant unless they affect his hue."

"Nothing is relevant unless it messes up his pure hue. If his hue isn't pure he begins to doubt himself, going through the motions always caught in a precarious position, always feeling inferior to those even one digit below his, until his mind spirals out of control by some small accident or other and eventually lands in the inevitable end of a criminal. Man is given no way out, caught between his natural instincts inside and the prison of Sibyl's restraint, he is only ever deemed then to falter and fail because mankind is imperfect."

"People only show kindness and generosity," Elaine added, "because their hue is pure and they don't see the danger but if it's adverse, if it will raise their digits they cower or turn away from it."

"Like that mother helping her daughter there. You would see a mother tending to her daughter, if this was before Sibyl, but now...the name constructs are the same, but if pushed, if given the choice of sparing her hue and eventually her degradation she won't hesitate to sever that bond and save herself from the destruction of the Dominator."

"If this was outside..."

"Would the maternal affection move the mother to save her young?"

"Yes," she answered somberly, "because the ties of filial connection haven't broken down and because the affection felt isn't orchestrated by an overseer. Affections are genuine, brought about by nurturing their young and even when parents are occasionally detached from their offspring that too is a consequence of the parent-child relationship in context. Sibyl isn't there to say, "Show no love for fear your Psycho Pass will rise." There is a lack of ulterior motive, or rather a different motive behind raising a child in the outside world and in Sibyl's prison. Outside, raising a child might be a hardship in the economical scene, but it provides emotional support and stability, a sense of belonging and other feelings which come naturally to those who raise them. Whatever a parents selfish motives for raising a child to adulthood, they are at least genuine and unaltered by Sibyl's dictation."

"And Japan is entirely different," Shogo stated glumly.

"In this society, raising a child isn't a financial burden for most because Sibyl decides how much money you get in your career and the bottom rung of jobs provide more than enough to satisfy people here. In the old world and still outside Japan, money is much more precious because people could easily over spend, however the regulation of the economy nowadays and the limits imposed on corporations and banks by the government have prevented people from taking on too much financial burden. Sibyl's uses extend far beyond the judicial sector, even denying loans to people unable to pay them back. Every thing, every thought, every enjoyment is regulated to an obscene level here."

"Yes," he agreed with her, his recalcitrance towards Sibyl evident in the hard frown on his usually serene expression. "Sibyl takes choices but gives nothing expect false security, trading divergent morality for a sense of narrowed minded obedience to Sibyl's laws, closing off all interpersonal acts and emotions and replacing them with artificial constructs of little importance. The truest form of human degradation was not the Nazi's brutal gas chambers, Soviet's purges, Mussolini's OVRA, or Chinese mass killing during Mao's government but Sibyl's system. Where these states, in the mold demonstrated in 1984, could only dream of absolute control through tyranny, Sibyl has achieved it through the willingness of humans. Sibyl has exploited humans fears more abundantly than any regime before it, pushing the fear of loneliness, the fear of violence, and the fear of nonconformity to its extreme threshold, utilizing these things to erase individuality altogether. All Winston's of this world are crushed, their Psycho Passes clouding and showing their location with more ease than any purge before it."

Her face was bleak as she stared at the playground. Shogo took a deep breath, trying to quiet the rage which always overcame the sadness in him when he realized what state they were living in.

"It's sickening," she inhaled sharply, her hands clutched together as she said, "it's sickening and maddening and we need to stop it."

"We will," they shared a mutual smile.

"Why do you find Miss. Shizuka interesting?" Choe Gu-Sung asked, picking up his drink and gulping from it. Shogo, standing near the window of the VIP box, turned half way towards him, hands in the pockets of his navy cargo pants.

"Why do I find Toma, Senguji or you interesting?"

"Don't lump me in with her," he glared into the bottle.

"You sound angry, how amusing."

"I dislike her snobbery."

"Really? I feel Toma's more snobbish than Elaine."

"I can't stand her."

"Why? Examine your feelings, Choe, and be honest with yourself. You'll do yourself no favors by casting illusions around your own emotions and masking them."

"Stop treating me like one of them!" He screamed, flinging the half full bottle against the nearby wall. The liquid spattered on impact, dripping down the wall and making the room smell of alcohol. Shogo wrinkled his nose and eyed Choe with renewed interest. He wasn't given to such outbursts usually, even drunk he was normally friendly and touchy, but he wasn't at that point yet, having only downed one beer while they'd been here. Emotions were raging across his face, anger, self loathing, and perhaps a tingle of guilt.

"What's hurting you, Choe? You can speak freely. Let the world hear your discord, let your feelings flow, regardless of their merits, virtues, or visceral nature."

"She...Elaine..." He choked, burying his head into his hands.

Shogo sat beside him, watching acutely the frustration on his features. It was pure emotion and Shogo reveled in it, pleased to see even the stoic Choe had his moments and glad he was there to see it.

"She reminds me of my sister."

"You have a sister?" He was surprised, the other man had never mentioned his familial bonds before, only briefly in passing.

"Yes. She was the reason I joined the Korean Peoples Army back in the day. Some of the enemy army raped her and my parents were left to pick up the pieces. I left then to fight against them and to try and free our society from oppression. We failed but at least we tried. Elaine has that independent spirit my sister did."

In his mind he imagined Choe as a young man and a faceless sister being abused by the world's cruelty. To Choe, that pain must have been unbearable. Choe's outrage at Elaine's presence made sense now, he wasn't being confronted with a strange woman taking his companion away, but a man fighting the past which Elaine represented.

"Don't let what happened be in vain."

"By defying Sibyl I can control my fate and even if I can't avenge myself on the Koreans who did my family wrong, I can still punish the other evils of this world, here and now." Choe lifted his head, red eyes staring at him with open pain the other rarely showed.

Shogo smiled and said, "When we tear down Sibyl and free Japan, those crimes which were perpetrated against your sister and others will happen and over time increase. How do you feel about that?"

"I..."

"Yes?"

"Aren't you always saying that freedom, even to commit heinous acts, is what makes us human? My sister's rape was atrocious but it was an inevitable act which happens in free societies. I wouldn't trade Korea for Japan, even if it means limiting those types of crimes. Those people willing to commit those crimes need to be brought to the light and punished. That's how I can accept it, all the evils of this world, knowing in the end people can avenge themselves."

"Gu-Sung," Shogo turned his eyes to the dance floor below. Women in tight and reveal clothing were swaggering around more than dancing. The men, sweaty and panting like rabid dogs, from the heat of the cramped dance floor, were grinding against the women wantonly. The licentious tension below, in retrospect of what they were discussing, was unseemly.

"I hate it! This society's inability to judge criminals themselves. They can't avenge themselves, they can only assume that the Dominator delivers its impartial judgment for them. What kind of closure does that world offer to the victims that survive or the average person who has seen it happen and wants justice?"

"What's your definition of justice, Choe?"

"An eye for an eye."

"Sibyl's judgments are similar but with one variation. It delivers punishment differently however. Instead of the righteous fury of the executioner of pass ages, Sibyl's judgment neither cares if your guilty or if you've even committed the act."

"Its mechanical."

"Laws and punishments are simply objective denouncements by other humans. Motives and context don't matter to Sibyl, only the beastly act and sometimes only the thoughts are evaluated. If Sibyl is delivering this justice, a computer made to serve humans, how can it judge accurately with no emotional inputs? How is Sibyl a good juror or judge? Is its impartiality to be commended or condemned for being too brutal in some instances? How does Sibyl even begin to pass laws without cognitive ability? Does it take the laws and obey them without flexibility? If we trust Sibyl's judgments to be impeachable than what does that say of us as humans if we defy its punishments or disagree?"

"Screw Sibyl," Choe nodded his head rigorously. Makishima smiled briefly before frowning at Choe's lack of originality.

The questions themselves seemed almost unknown at the moment, but Makishima knew the only correct answer was to dismantle the very system itself to make way for humans to answer those pressing thoughts on justice themselves, as they had in the pass and no doubt would in the future. Sibyl could only put off the inevitable end that took place for every human and creation on Earth. Shogo would do his part to try and speed up the downfall, knowing inaction wasn't an answer and trying to work from within would take generations and possibly produce no results. If chaos descended for a time after Sibyl he would embrace it, knowing it meant the revival of people over the long haul. Order would return as people struggled and chaos and order would commingle in that Apollonian and Dionysian concept described by Nietzsche. That was the only way humans could advance as a species and not lose sight of their greatness or die out. One extreme or the other was not an answer to those eternal questions and he could only be baffled at those fools who thought the questions so easily dismissed or already solved.

"Yukimori?" Elaine stood in front of him. He had just gotten to his classroom and entered to find her waiting at his desk. Oso Academy hadn't started the day, students not yet wondering the halls.

"Miss Shizuka."

"I wish you'd call me Elaine more often than you do. I don't want formality between us. As individuals I think we understand each other very well or as well as two humans who have only known each other for a little under two months can."

"I'll remember to try."

"Good. Your birthday was yesterday so I got you a present. Nothing ostentatious as you didn't give me much preparation time, but...well I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Here."

He recognized the gift wrap from Arno's store, a thin wrapping of bright cherry with a neat white ribbon. He could tell immediately by its weightlessness that it was no book, even a slim pamphlet would have offered more substance. He met her eyes, curiosity flickering in his as he carefully opened it, doing his best not to tear the wrapping.

It was a DVD. The cover was a group of characters, painted in colors of red, violet, green, and blue. The Conformist was the title. He flipped it over and examined the back, reading the summary.

"Maybe we could watch it together? I've never seen it either and Arno said you'd probably like it based on what you read."

"Sure."

Shogo paused, turning his cell phone off. The last call had been Toma, calling him to come to his house quickly. He entered through the unlocked door and walked through the empty rooms. He heard noise coming from a different room further in. He had only ever been to Toma's apartment once.

He entered the living room and frowned, advancing pass the couch and glass table. The noise was coming from a door next to the kitchen. He entered, walking cautiously down the staircase into the dimly lit basement. It smelled musky and the walls were cold to the touch as he used it to keep his balance on the creaky way down.

"Shogo?" Toma, his voice frenzied, appeared at the landing. "I wasn't expecting you so soon. Please go back upstairs, we can talk there."

"What's going on here?" He could see a table, covered with a tarp and the faint metallic scent of blood as he went over to it.

"Nothing, just some...experimentation. Nothing you should worry yourself about." He was nervous and his attempts at smiling and soothing were transparently false.

"You think I'd shy from this?" He flung the tarp to the ground, staring at the sight of a dismembered body. The head had been cut open, blood spattered all over the table, walls, and floor. The plastination had done the job well, working like an amber to cover an ant, except the ant was human form in this horrifying variation.

"What do you think?" The madness in his eyes and voice were not subtle. Shogo bite back a remark, instead grimly examining the remains before him.

"Who was it?"

"A politician named Ryoji Hashida. He wa a member of the Diet Lower House. I removed the brain and took the hippocampus out. Do you know what that is? It controls short and long term memory. Hashida was a notorious liar and con, even falsifying his crime coefficient, saying anything to get elected and changing his mind later to his advantage. Guess where I put it?" He was giggling wildly and swaying on his feet, his memory of the murder illuminating his face with a glow of feeling seldom seen in the man.

"Knowing you," Shogo noted Toma's sardonic grin. "The anus is apt."

"Correct! You are always so quick witted."

"It's not hard to be so in our environment."

"I can't wait for people to see this, to display it for all the world to be moved by," Toma raved and Shogo inwardly cringed, not from the macabre idea, but Toma's constant need for attention. "It will prove to them once and for all who is the master and who the slave!"

References:

1984 by George Orwell


	6. Chapter 5: E

" _Chorus: But what irremediable evil art thou then about to perpetrate?_

 _Ph_ _æ_ _dra:_ _To die: but how, this will I devise." -_ Euripides

"Eustress deficiency cerebral infarction," Makishima's tone was akin to a doctor sprouting off diseases with lethargic poignancy. "Have you heard of it?"

"No," Choe said dismissively. "Is it important?"

"Stress care is at an all time high and that's only expected given the growing obsession with monitoring Psycho Passes. You can go into any home in our country and there are two items you will see in every one that is identical. A cymatic scanning system to check you before you leave and pills and other stress relievers."

"That's not surprising," Choe looked at the floor. It had been almost two weeks since the last meeting between them.

"Eustress is just another form of deadening people from within. It is almost as effective as tying a noose around one's neck or putting a bullet through one's brain. A person's body can't take the medication too long or the subject becomes a non-functioning brain inside a working body."

"Do you know anyone who suffers from it?"

"Just because something isn't directly personal to our own lives, doesn't mean it shouldn't concern us, Gu-Sung."

"Hm," he stared out the window, where the Public Safety Bureau's Nona Tower dominated the otherwise plain skyscraper view.

"Do you know anything about architecture?"

"Nope."

"I want you to look up three different styles for me and tell me which one you prefer."

"Okay."

"Stonehouse by Sir Herbert Baker, the Seth-Peterson cottage by Frank Lloyd Wright, or Neue Staatsgalerie in Germany designed by James Stirling."

"The last one is my favorite. I love the use of plastics, rubber, and the design."

"You see I don't care for that one, but I dislike the Stonehouse more. The Neue Staatsgalerie may not be my cup of tea, but it has originality and a flare for trying new ideas. The Stonehouse," he pointed to the structure, a stone house with classical columns. "It lacks any inspiration to me. It's simply a collection of works put into play with little creativity. All Baker's works I've seen only take from what came before without adding anything inspiring. The Seth-Peterson cottage," a small structure of wood, glass, and limestone, "is beautiful. It has a harmonious feel, with exquisite slanting rooftop, and marvelous use of the minuscule square feet. It, like Fallingwater, epitomizes the use of space and nature, two notions heralded by Frank Lloyd Wright."

"You're a fan of this Wright guy?"

"Yes. There is nothing wrong in Herbert Baker's forms, they are inviting, but all works, including architecture assuredly, need some flavor from the person inventing it. What is life if we add nothing new to what came before? If we never questioned tradition or built upon its premises while still honoring it? I'm reminded of something Elaine said recently. Peter Keatings best describes my opinion of Baker."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Don't worry about it," he stretched, arms going above his head. "I just realized I'm rather tired."

"Of what?"

"The monotony of life. Was there ever beauty in that concept?"

"It is wearisome for a reason," Choe said.

"But all things were new once and thus become old. If we look only to reject the old and replace it perpetually with the newest shinning object...if it is always to be replaced...is that not irksome too? Perhaps some middle ground is needed? That could be why I like Wright."

"Maybe," Gu-Sung yawned. "What time is it?"

"A little before noon."

"I should have slept in later. I hate getting up before noon."

Makishima laughed, a stunningly clear sound, "Says one who gets more than four hours of sleep a night."

"Not my fault you don't sleep."

"There is physical vulnerability during sleep."

"That's why, huh?"

"Not entirely. I've grown used to little sleep. As a child I slept a good deal, seven hours almost every night like clockwork. Now...some things change I suppose."

"I hope you never change, Makishima."

"That would be dull, even for me."

* * *

"You're late," Elaine declared, her eyes accusatory and her hand on her hip.

"I've heard it said that's fashionable."

"No, it is rude."

"I'm only ten minutes late." He nudged her out of his way as he entered her home. The house was made of wood with big arching windows and Japanese roofing that made a unique combination.

"Don't make excuses."

"Are you that mad?" Shogo ran his hand over the wallpaper. He liked the feel of it beneath his fingers. Most places had holographic designs, no longer any sort of worldly feel to them. His own house had painted walls and wooden aesthetic to subvert that.

"No," she led him down the hallway which opened on a spacious living room. A painted violet table sat in the center of the room with a pink couch. The walls in this room were painted a soft teal to accent the dark furniture. The lamps had green shades, giving the room an eerie glow. He imagined it was almost like being submerged underwater with strong sunlight beaming down. On one wall was a painting of a green and blue coral.

"It is a Favia called Green Moon Coral," she said when she noticed his gaze. "Did I ever tell you we lived in Nice, France before? My father loved the ocean. He decorated this room himself before he passed away."

"He was a genius."

"He was half mad," she chuckled, moving the red cushion onto her lap as she sat down on the crouch.

"My sort of man."

"You would have liked him."

"I imagine we would have had much to talk about if you are any indication of his parenting skills."

"I wouldn't make such a fallacious jump, people usually turn out the opposite of their parents."

"In this case I will side with my assumption."

"Are you thirsty, Yukimori?"

"No."

"I'm getting a water," she left the room as he sat down on the only chair. Everything was pristine, but for the worn down chair he was in. It was made of black leather, a stark contrast to the rest of the room.

"My father would sit there. It was one of the few things he managed to get into Japan. Most of our belongings stayed in Nice, but he was obsessed with bringing some of them over and spent years trying to get that damn chair here."

"Should I worry you are as stubborn as him?"

"Oh no, if you ask Jourdain he will say I'm worse," she sat down, crossing her short legs and leaning back.

"Have you ever suffered violence against your own person or known a close relative to?" Shogo asked, tracing the cover of the movie before opening it. The shinny disc was quickly inserted into the DVD player. He was amazed she even had a player, they were hard to come by, but he imagined like the chair, it was from her time outside Japan.

"My uncle, but I imagine the violence you are referring to is of a more personal nature."

"Yes, the government is given a pass while individuals are condemned for it," he answered, reclining in the chair and pressing his arms into the rests. The movie opened with a neon red sign and Marcello sitting on the bed in his hotel room. They said nothing during the movie, the only noise the ticking of a clock above his head, the rustle of their clothes when they moved, or her slurping of her water. When the last scene played of Marcello, staring at a naked man, and the look on his face faded the credits began rolling.

"Conformity can be beastly," she said.

"Yes," he sighed, "Marcello would conform to anything, Fascist or Anti-Fascist so long as it was collectivist mentality and he could hide from his true self. A pitiful excuse of a man. I must say my favorite part was the scene with the professor and Marcello discussing Plato's allegory of the cave."

"Oh that was a good scene. I also quite enjoyed Manganiello's reflection while he and Marcello are on the way to the death scene. It was interesting to see such a hardened man reflect on his convictions, if only for a moment."

"Yes, reflecting on your own ethics is always to be countenanced, even if it doesn't produce a change. I was also curious by the rampart sexuality of the movie. Was Anna a lesbian? I certainly got the impression Marcello was gay, if not bisexual."

"I assumed he was secretly homosexual. As for Anna I felt it was more a ploy to get Marcello into her bed, especially that scene with Giulia whereas Giulia seemed to be experimenting."

She stood, picking up her empty bottle and walking out. She called from another room, "Want to watch something else? I have a few movies."

"Next time."

"Who said there is going to be a next time?" She scoffed, leaning on her elbow on the armrest. Her eyes were lined with mascara today, something he noticed she didn't do very often. The dark color of her irises were enhanced by the makeup and from here he could smell some scent coming from her. Whether it was perfume or lotion he couldn't say but it was distinctly almond scented. Her look was altogether very feminine and pleasing, but then she was usually given to dressing fashionably outside of work.

"I'm just going to assume again," he answered plainly.

"You know I think this is the first time we haven't just talked about Sibyl or any of that. I know you mentioned the Marquis de Sade once to me before, but have you read any of _La R_ _é_ _volution_ _Surr_ _éaliste?_ It was a serial with highly violent and sexual themes. For some reason Marcello's sexual deviancy reminded me of that."

"But life isn't just a game of revolution, after all what good is revolution if it is unending? No, revolution has its place, but if I ever cease to speak of other things outside of it, take me to the woods and shoot me as Anna was shot. As for the sexual themes lust is a primary motif for many people, seeking an idolization of their beloved who they often model after parents or… Choe is a good example of a man looking for his mother's embrace in all the women he fornicates with and finding them unworthy he disregards them quickly and successively. Toma, once told me he was adopted and had a sister, I imagine that explains his timidness towards sex. He's afraid of abandonment so he inflates his own ego to protect himself."

"And you? You can't tell me you have no sexual appetite? Are you asexual?"

"No, but I do pride myself in having little desire for the attention of others. That low cut blouse, that makeup, that scent you've put on today wasn't for your own benefit." She closed her eyes, a pleased smile creeping to her lips.

"No," she echoed, meeting his eyes unflinchingly. "Am I like Choe? Looking for a man to replace my father's idolized position or am I like other women merely looking for a protector?"

"None of that suits you. For one thing, though you admire your father's merits, you are also harsh about the things you find disagreeable in him. That doesn't smack of idol worship to me. However…"

"What, do tell? I don't want you to keep anything back, Mr. Shibata."

"I have wondered," he pronounced each word slowly, savoring the curious expression on her face that he was going to deflate in a moment. "If you'll allow a Freud quote, "Women are bound to value their charms more highly as a late compensation for their original sexual inferiority."

"My question in response would be how are women inferior? If we are talking in the mental capability I'd say that's completely ignorant and that, though our hormones are different, we can think thoughts as complex as any man's. If we are referring to physical limitations I'd still say you are wrong. Men may be initially more fit due to the evolutionary process but women can become as muscular and skilled as most men."

"Physically men will always dominate women, regardless of strength training or other notable skills they gain. The lion will best the zebra, the cheetah will get the antelope, the wolf will catch the deer..."

"Now you're just playing devil's advocate," she admonished, catching onto his twisted humor. "You really find humor in the most humorless things, Yukimori."

"I know, but it was a useful way to distract from your pointless questioning."

"Pointless," she laughed, shaking her head. "How is discussing my apparent sexual issues pointless?"

"Not that," Shogo stood, "besides I should go."

"You're leaving?"

"I should leave," he said.

"Wait," she stood too, eying him with misgiving. "What do you mean not that?"

"We both know where this evening would end, if we were both a normal man and woman."

She said nothing in reply, her hand reaching out and touching the top button of his dress shirt. Her fingers plucked at the button but didn't undo it, taking a step towards him while keeping her gaze sultry.

"We could act normal just once," she flirted, moving so close he could feel the heat from her body against his cold one.

"I think it would be better to end the evening."

"Are you not interested in me? Am I not your type?"

"That's not..." He took her hand, surprised at the firmness of it when he'd imagined that it would be femininely soft.

"What?"

"I'm very determined to bring Sybil down, so much so I've not time for..."

"Meaningless sex?"

"I didn't take you for the casual fling sort."

"I'm very versatile," she grinned, her thighs pressing against his. "Can we stop talking about it?"

He gave in, planting his hands firmly on her hips. She giggled, throwing her arms around his waist. Her arms reached up and her fingertips dug into his shoulder blades. He took her face between the palms of his hands and kissed her. Her tongue wiggled into his mouth, twirling around his combatively as he pushed her onto the crouch. Her body was fluid beneath him, her hips lining themselves up to his, her breasts heaving vigorously and pushing against his chest with each inhale.

His cell rang. He leaned his elbow on the seat and pulled his phone out. She was giving an amused look, wrapping one leg around his waist and pulling him back on top of her.

He said into the phone, "Hello?"

"I swear if Toma calls me one more time," Choe's voice was strained, "Call Toma. He won't stop pestering me. Every half hour he dials my number and I tell him to call you and his stupid ass response–."

"Does this have a point," he demanded, stifling his urge to groan as her fingers tugged on his zipper and slipped into his pants.

"Toma's freaking out and saying he did something with the plastination."

"Did something," he pushed her hand away and stood, quickly zipping his pants. "Where is he at?"

"His place I think."

"I'll be right there."

Elaine gave a throaty laugh, throwing her head onto the armrest angrily. "Must you?"

"Is that a female's voice?" Choe demanded in shock, Shogo simply hung up, not bothering to answer.

"I have to go."

"Why? It is important?" Her hand reached for him, but he stepped away. "Asshole."

"Sorry, but duty calls. We can finish this another time."

"Who said I'd want to next time?"

He laughed and leaned down, kissing her lips briskly as he walked to the door. Elaine sighed in frustration after him and he chuckled to himself, amused at her expense.

"Kouzaburo!" He came into the room. Toma, was sitting on his couch, a book in hand and a tub of ice cream on the living room table. He raised an eyebrow at the unusual sight, while mostly the ice cream.

"What?"

"Choe said you called him repeatedly."

"Oh that."

"Yes. What happened?"

"I..." He looked anxious and reached for the ice cream, shoveling big mouthfuls in. Shogo waited patiently, glancing towards the kitchen door and what would be the basement.

"Well, did you get yourself into trouble?"

"No dogs," Toma set the ice cream back on the table, turning serious now. "Though they might get wind of my schemes."

"Who did you kill this time?"

"Some girl," he waved his hand as if it was a small matter, but Shogo, watching him carefully, discerned some uneasiness in him that hadn't been there during the first killing. "I'm sure you'll love how I set her up."

"I'm sure I will."

"I took some photographs if you want to see."

"A memento to remember it by?"

"You think it trivial?" Toma leaned back into the crouch, closing his eyes.

"No, I won't criticize you for that. We all want to prolong those feelings which make us feel more alive than usual."

"Exactly. It's truly astonishing how well you understand."

He paced from one side of the room to the other, not taking his eyes off Toma. The man was slouching and then the next moment he was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, his head cast downward.

"What's bothering you, Toma?"

"Two things," he answered stiffly. "The first perhaps you can help me with."

"Oh," he sat languidly on the empty spot next to Toma. "What can I do?"

"I found out I was a strange child when I was nine. How old were you?"

"Seven, if I remember correctly. What happened to make you aware?"

"Nothing, I'd always been a good child which made sense with my Psycho Pass. I was a virtual saint. I only ever did small evils but my checks proved me as a pure adolescent while slowly but surely everyone else around me was darkening more and more each year. I didn't realize what the problem was, but I knew it was strange. My friends started picking on me to make them feel better about their cloudiness. The clearer my Hue, the next day the worse the beatings and words."

"So solitude became common."

"Yes, loneliness and being ignored."

"You make it sound dreadful," he frowned.

"It was. Who wants to be ignored? That's what I hate about this society, you are only given value if you are evil. Being pure means you don't need to be given attention. All around me I was left to my own devices, but my peers were constantly being watched, scolded, treated like real children while I was considered above it all. Do you know what I mean?"

"My parents doted on me as a child," he answered mechanically, "as I got older that lessened, but it wasn't really to do with me, their Crime Coefficients worsened and my mother partly blamed me...truly I had a not half bad childhood in comparison to others."

"My parents deemed me too good to even bother."

"Initially it was the same for me," he said, remembering long confused stares and muttering from his parents each year when his scanning showed no signs of raising. Soon that praise of his sainthood had turned to resentment from his mother and his father's only concern being moderate surprise but indifference.

"My parents ignored me," Toma said despondently, "and I hated everyone in the world. I distanced myself, eventually going to University. In political science I could lose myself and forget about my anger and...as you would say my impulses."

"What kinds of desires did you have?"

"To kill, to maim, to injury irreparably those who had vitiated me."

"So revenge?" Shogo looked away, in the direction of the basement. Toma was proving boring, his motives lackluster and uninspired.

"Isn't that why you hate Sibyl, Shogo?" He returned his gaze to the man's beside him. "You want revenge as much as I do, the only difference being you want to bring down the system while I to let lose my rage against the masses for how they've treated me."

"The masses are a byproduct of Sibyl's indoctrination. You can condemn them sure enough, they should feel guilty for electing such a government, but I suppose that's beyond them to grasp now. What you shouldn't do, Toma, is cast a stone on the blameless."

"What do you mean?"

"The young who had no say in bringing this government about."

"You mean the girl?"

"Yes. Do not mistake what I say. The sheep are worthless as they are and trying to proselytize to a group that won't hear Sibyl's faults can be aggravating. More than anything we need the masses if we want a true foothold for bringing Sibyl to an end, even if we succeed in bringing Sibyl down if no one recognizes why its a miserly government than they will erect another and continue ad nauseam."

"So we need them," Toma's snarl would have frightened lesser men. "I don't need them! I never will! I'll bring Sibyl to its knees and all the spineless fools who follow its simplistic mortality!"

"How can you change a society if people don't believe it is evil? During the time of the Bakumatsu how do you think the Shogun was brought down? The opponents of the Bakufu didn't just destroy the Shogun himself, that would have been useless and another would have risen to take his place. No, they degraded the title of Shogunate, bringing to light its isolationist policies and the weakness inherent in that way of thinking."

"You think our isolationist policies nowadays are not any good, hm?"

"They are archaic, but I can easily understand why Sibyl endorses such backward thinking. Sibyl wouldn't have the capability to judge all those who would flock to our country to escape their own. Many war torn battlegrounds formally thought of as great nations, the French, the British, the Russians, and the Americas and so on, now no more than smothering piles of death. The very cultures stripped from them, a society reverting back into the barbaric and illiterate people of old."

"I imagine there is nothing to envy a caveman for."

"Oh but there is. In our society freedom is chained. We may have a higher standard of living but thoughts are regulated and renounced. A caveman may have no school to enlighten him, no music to inspire, no art to emboldened him, but he has his mind's adaptability, his ears to hear the sound of the world, his body to express it creatively. He may be base in the materials afforded him, but that does not mean his thoughts are. As civilized men our education, our music, our arts are all regulated by Sibyl's proscription of whether or not it's good. All creative facilities only allowed to a select few who won't go outside the border and if they do they are taken to therapy and if they are not sponsored they are killed."

"We, who have every conceivable comfort, should envy the wealth of thoughts such a man is capable of."

"We have forsaken it, Toma, the ability to think and turned out minds away from those thoughts not ordained by Sibyl. We've been told not to look at the darkness for fear we will forget the light, but looking at the night sky only makes me love the daylight more and also appreciate another side of the world, it gives a new perspective and one that should be as cherished as the day."

"Evil and good should both be cherished, huh? I can think of dozens of scholars who will disagree."

"Because man is told to perpetually seek happiness or goodness or pleasure, and that pain or evil brings us further from that goal and thus we should disregard it? How can we disregard a part of humanity so innate to us? The beast is no stranger to the angel, the deepest waters a part of the clearest stream, to even consider that one person is too saintlike for any avarice is impossible to fathom. We were not born to ignore vices, but to facilitate them, to embolden even the variation we can't comprehend or appreciate ourselves."

"Like murder."

"Yes, murder, as everything else in this world, should be looked at not jadedly but with awe. Even I find things repellent, but that does not mean I wish to annihilate them completely from this world. Sibyl is my scorn enemy, its false truths undeniable to me, its sacrilege to the human spirit great, however though I would dismantle the system itself, I would never deny others the ability to champion such obscenity. I would oppose them obstinately, but never deny them the faculty to think what they please, if I did that I'd be little better than Sibyl."

The doorbell rang, a piercing shrill into the cold room.

Toma stood fanatically, looking at him for help. He stood and strolled to the door, peering out the hole. The man was brown haired and dark eyed and dressed for business in a suit. He looked bored and uninterested, a cigarette between his lips that he puckered and fiddled with while waiting.

"Anyone home?" He called, trying to catch sight of them in the window.

"Do you know him?" The negative shake of Toma's head confirmed the two were strangers. Makishima sighed and said, "Don't be rash. I'll handle this."

"Thank you, Shogo."

"Hello," he said as he opened the door. "What can I do for you?"

"Are you Toma Kouzaburo?" The man asked, not bothering even to add a pleasantry for the sake of civility. Shogo found that amusing.

"No, but Toma is here, please come inside." He stepped away from the door and ushered the man in.

"Who are you?" The man demanded, his voice carefree, but a sharpness in his eyes.

"Mr. Shibata is a friend," Toma said uneasily, looking at the man like he was a beastly creature for even asking.

"And you are?"

"I'm Mitsuru Sasayama, an Enforcer with the MWPSB," he held up his wrist, the delicate ban that signaled his status to the world.

"Mr. Sasayama, how can we help you?"

"I've received some intel that Mr. Kouzaburo was seen at the Iyasaka Traditional Restaurant on the first of November."

"That's important how?"

"A politician was found dead. We simply want to investigate. If you could supply me with what you may have witnessed."

"I wasn't aware," Shogo answered for Toma, "that investigations were conducted anymore. Isn't a person's Psycho Pass suppose to tell the whole story?"

"Some times it is tricky to track down the person, the perpetrator may have left the city so Psycho Passes can't help with that. They can't tell us who committed the crime, just that the person has a high crime coefficient."

"My," Shogo smiled widely, "such an anarchic way of thinking in our peaceful and trusting society." He wondered if Sasayama caught the sarcasm laced in each word. Truthfully he was glad to meet this man, finding some small nugget of life behind those falsely laid-back features.

"Mr. Kouzaburo, if you could speak yourself," he directly this partly at Shogo due to his interference and the rest to Toma, "I would like for you to relate exactly what you saw, even to the minute detail, friend." Friend sounded kind coming from his demeanor, but the sickly mocking gleam in his eyes was clear as day to Shogo.

Toma explained the story, unwavering in the details and hesitating only twice when Sasayama made some scathing remark. Toma did some times possess an intellect which surprised Shogo, if he set his ego down for a moment. He was convincing with his clueless look, his smiles made to mimic lazy thoughtlessly at the vague suggestions made by Sasayama, and his mask of sympathetic worry was hard to detect as false. All in all he made a very neat picture of this high school teacher who seldom entertained any thought behind his career and immediate home life. If Shogo didn't know better he might have been fooled.

In Sasayama's eyes the edge had dulled and he seemed, less investigator and more of an old acquaintance, smiling a little at something Toma said about the restaurant in question and nodding at a reference to the Lower Diet House. Soon, Sasayama was standing, thanking them for being so courteous and congenial and apologizing for wasting their time. More than anything he sounded like he was apologizing for the unspoken assumption of their criminality.

"No need to apologize," Toma said undaunted, his smile plastered on.

"We shouldn't need to talk again, but the MWPSB might want to approach you later to verify. I don't think it will be necessary, Mr. Kouzaburo, but keep the details fresh in your mind just in case."

"We appreciate your thoroughness," Shogo added with a perspicuous smile, "Enforcer Sasayama, we need that in this age when criminals are hard to spot. Psycho Passes may be the key to reading if someone is evil or not, but true ovation should be given to those who work hard to find those dark creatures who evade even Sibyl."

"No one can evade Sibyl," he answered automatically and Shogo closes his eyes. "Not forever anyway."

* * *

Quotes/Paraphrases:

" _Chorus: But what irremediable evil art thou then about to perpetrate?_

 _Ph_ _æ_ _dra:_ _To die: but how, this will I devise." -_ Euripides, _The Tragedies of Euripide_ _s,_ in his _Hippolytus_.

"Women are bound to value their charms more highly as a late compensation for their original sexual inferiority." - Sigmund Freud

References:

 _The Conformist_ (1970) by Bernardo Bertolucci

 _La R_ _é_ _volution_ _Surr_ _éaliste_ by various authors in Paris, France


End file.
